THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


A 

f  » 


JOHANN  WOLFGANG  VON  GOETHE 


FAUST 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
HARRY  CLARKE 


TRANSLATED  INTO  ENGLISH, 

IN  THE  ORIGINAL  METRES,  BY 

BAYARD  TAYLOR 


ARDEN  BOOK  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


Printed  in  ike  United  Slates  of  America  by 

J.    J.   LITTLE   *  IVES  COMPANY,   NEW  YORK 


CONTENTS 


2046737 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


PREFACE     .     .     .     .     ;. 13 

AN  GOETHE 23 

DEDICATION      ...../ 25 

PRELUDE  AT  THE  THEATRE  .     .     .     .     ...     .     .     .  27 

PROLOGUE  IN  HEAVEN 35 

SCENE   I.    NIGHT  (Faust's  Monologue) 41 

II.    BEFORE  THE  CITY-GATE    .......  57 

III.  THE  STUDY  (The  Exorcism) 72 

IV.  THE  STUDY  (The  Compact) 85 

V.    AUERBACH'S  CELLAR   .   ...  ..     .     .     .     .     .  106 

VI.    WITCHES'  KITCHEN     . 122 

VII.    A  STREET .  136 


VIII.    EVENING 142 

IX.    PROMENADE 148 

9 


Contcnt0 

PAGE 

SCENE  X.  THE  NEIGHBOR'S  HOUSE 151 

XI.  STREET 160 

XII.  GARDEN 163 

XIII.  A  GARDEN-ARBOR 171 

XIV.  FOREST  AND  CAVERN 173 

XV.  MARGARET'S  ROOM 181 

XVI.  MARTHA'S  GARDEN 184 

XVII.  AT  THE  FOUNTAIN 191 

XVIII.  DONJON  (Margaret's  Prayer) 194 

XIX.  NIGHT  (Valentine's  Death) 196 

XX.  CATHEDRAL        . 204 

XXI.  WALPURGIS-NIGHT       j- 207 

XXII.  OBERON  AND  TITANIA'S  GOLDEN  WEDDING     .  226 

XXIII.  DREARY  DAY     i     .     .     ...»     .     .     .     .  234 

XXIV.  NIGHT     .............  239 

XXV.  DUNGEON 240 


10 


FAUST 


12 


'yi^iSa^ife 

i*«iAw 


T  is  twenty  years  since  I  first  determined  to  attempt  the 
translation  of  'Faust,  in  the  original  metres.  At  that  time, 
.  although  more  than  a  score  of  English  translations  of  the 
First  Part,  and  three  or  four  of  the  Second  Part,  were  in 
existence,  the  experiment  had  not  yet  been  made.  The  prose 
version  of  Hayward  seemed  to  have  been  accepted  as  the 
standard,  in  default  of  anything  more  satisfactory:  the  Eng- 
lish critics,  generally  sustaining  the  translator  in  his  views 
concerning  the  secondary  importance  of  form  in  Poetry, 
practically  discouraged  any  further  attempt;  and  no  one, 
familiar  with  rhythmical  expression  through  the  needs  of  his 
own  nature,  had  devoted  the  necessary  love  and  patience  to 
an  adequate  reproduction  of  the  great  work  of  Goethe's  life. 

Mr.  Brooks  was  the  first  to  undertake  the  task,  and  the 
publication  of  his  translation  of  the  First  Part  (in  1856)  in- 
duced me,  for  a  time,  to  give  up  my  own  design.  No  previous 
English  version  exhibited  such  abnegation  of  the  translator's 
own  tastes  and  habits  of  thought,  such  reverent  desire  to 

resent  the  original  in  its  purest  form.    The  care  and  con- 

13 


jFaust 

science  with  which  the  work  had  been  performed  were  so  ap- 
parent, that  I  now  state  with  reluctance  what  then  seemed  to 
me  to  be  its  only  deficiencies,— a  lack  of  the  lyrical  fire  and 
fluency  of  the  original  in  some  passages,  and  an  occasional 
lowering  of  the  tone  through  the  use  of  words  which  are 
literal,  but  not  equivalent.  The  plan  of  translation  adopted 
by  Mr.  Brooks  was  so  entirely  my  own,  that  when  further 
residence  in  Germany  and  a  more  careful  study  of  both  parts 
of  Faust  had  satisfied  me  that  the  field  was  still  open, — that 
the  means  furnished  by  the  poetical  affinity  of  the  two  lan- 
guages had  not  yet  been  exhausted, — nothing  remained  for 
me  but  to  follow  him  in  all  essential  particulars.  His  exam- 
ple confirmed  me  in  the  belief  that  there  were  few  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  a  nearly  literal  yet  thoroughly  rhythmical  ver- 
sion of  Faust,  which  might  not  be  overcome  by  loving  labor. 
A  comparison  of  seventeen  English  translations,  in  the  arbi- 
trary metres  adopted  by  the  translators,  sufficiently  showed 
the  danger  of  allowing  license  in  this  respect:  the  white  light 
of  Goethe's  thought  was  thereby  passed  through  the  tinted 
glass  of  other  minds,  and  assumed  the  coloring  of  each. 
Moreover,  the  plea  of  selecting  different  metres  in  the  hope 
of  producing  a  similar  effect  is  unreasonable,  where  the  iden- 
tical metres  are  possible. 

The  value  of  form,  in  a  poetical  work,  is  the  first  question 
to  be  considered.  No  poet  ever  understood  this  question  more 
thoroughly  than  Goethe  himself,  or  expressed  a  more  positive 
opinion  in  regard  to  it.  The  alternative  modes  of  translation 
which  he  presents  (reported  by  Riemer,  quoted  by  Mrs. 
Austin,  in  her  "Characteristics  of  Goethe,"  and  accepted  by 
Mr.  Hay  ward),*  are  quite  independent  of  his  views  concern- 

* "  "There  are  two  maxims  of  translation,'  says  he:  'the  one  requires  that  the 
author,  of  a  foreign  nation,  be  brought  to  us  in  such  a  manner  that  we  may  regard 
him  as  our  own;  the  other,  on  the  contrary,  demands  of  us  that  we  transport 
ourselves  over  to  him,  and  adopt  his  situation,  his  mode  of  speaking,  and  his 
peculiarities.  The  advantages  of  both  are  sufficiently  known  to  all  instructed  per- 
sons, from  masterly  examples.' " 

Is  it  necessary,  however,  that  there  should  always  be  this  alternative?  Where 
the  languages  are  kindred,  and  equally  capable  of  all  varieties  of  metrical  ex- 

14 


ing  the  value  of  form,  which  we  find  given  elsewhere,  in  the 
clearest  and  most  emphatic  manner.*  Poetry  is  not  simply  a 
fashion  of  expression:  it  is  the  form  of  expression  absolutely 
required  by  a  certain  class  of  ideas.  Poetry,  indeed,  may  be 
distinguished  from  Prose  by  the  single  circumstance,  that  it 
is  the  utterance  of  whatever  in  man  cannot  be  perfectly  uttered 
in  any  other  than  a  rhythmical  form:  it  is  useless  to  say  that 
the  naked  meaning  is  independent  of  the  form:  on  the  con- 
trary, the  form  contributes  essentially  to  the  fullness  of  the 
meaning.  In  Poetry  which  endures  through  its  own  inherent 
vitality,  there  is  no  forced  union  of  these  two  elements.  They 
are  as  intimately  blended,  and  with  the  same  mysterious 
beauty,  as  the  sexes  in  the  ancient  Hermaphroditus.  To  at- 
tempt to  represent  Poetry  in  Prose,  is  very  much  like  attempt- 
ing to  translate  music  into  speech.f 

pression,  may  not  both  these  "maxims"  be  observed  in  the  same  translation?  Goethe, 
it  is  true,  was  of  the  opinion  that  Faust  ought  to  be  given,  in  French,  in  the 
manner  of  Clement  Marot;  but  this  was  undoubtedly  because  he  felt  the  inadequacy 
of  modern  French  to  express  the  naive,  simple  realism  of  many  passages.  The 
same  ot^ection  does  not  apply  to  English.  There  are  a  few  archaic  expressions  in 
Faust,  but  no  more  than  are  still  allowed — nay,  frequently  encouraged — in  the 
English  of  our  day. 

*  "You  are  right,"  said  Goethe;  "there  are  great  and  mysterious  agencies  included 
in  the  various  forms  of  Poetry.  If  the  substance  of  my  'Roman  Elegies'  were  to 
be  expressed  in  the  tone  and  measure  of  Byron's  'Don  Juan,'  it  would  really  have 
__an  atrocious  effect." — Eckermann. 

"The  rhythm,"  said  Goethe,  "is  an  unconscious  result  of  the  poetic  mood.  If 
one  should  stop  to  consider  it  mechanically,  when  about  to  write  a  poem,  one 
would  become  bewildered  and  accomplish  nothing  of  real  poetical  value." — Ibid. 

"All  that  is  poetic  in  character  should  be  rythmically  treated!  Such  is  my 
conviction;  and  if  even  a  sort  of  poetic  prose  should  be  gradually  introduced,  it 
would  only  show  that  the  distinction  between  prose  and  poetry  had  been  com- 
pletely lost  sight  of." — Goethe  to  Schiller,  1797. 

Tycho  Mommsen,  in  his  excellent  essay,  Die  Kunst  des  Deutschen  Uebersetzers 
aus  neueren  Sprachen,  goes  so  far  as  to  say:  "The  metrical  or  rhymed  modelling 
of  a  poetical  work  is  so  essentially  the  germ  of  its  being,  that,  rather  than  by 
giving  it  up,  we  might  hope  to  construct  a  similar  work  of  art  before  the  eyes  of 
our  countrymen,  by  giving  up  or  changing  the  substance.  The  immeasurable 
result  which  has  followed  works  wherein  the  form  has  been  retained — such  as 
the  Homer  of  Voss,  and  the  Shakespeare  of  Tieck  and  Schlegel — is  an  incontro- 
vertible evidence  of  the  vitality  of  the  endeavor." 

t  "Goethe's  poems  exercise  a  great  sway  over  me,  not  only  by  their  meaning, 
but  also  by  their  rhythm.  It  is  a  language  which  stimulates  me  to  composition." — 
Beethoven. 


JFauj&t 

The  various  theories  of  translation  from  the  Greek  and 
Latin  poets  have  been  admirably  stated  by  Dryden  in  his 
Preface  to  the  "Translations  from  Ovid's  Epistles,"  and  I  do 
not  wish  to  continue  the  endless  discussion, — especially  as  our 
literature  needs  examples,  not  opinions.  A  recent  expression, 
however,  carries  with  it  so  much  authority,  that  I  feel  bound 
to  present  some  considerations  which  the  accomplished  scholar 
seems  to  have  overlooked.  Mr.  Lewes*  justly  says:  "The 
effect  of  poetry  is  a  compound  of  music  and  suggestion;  this 
music  and  this  suggestion  are  intermingled  in  words,  which 
to  alter  is  to  alter  the  effect.  For  words  in  poetry  are  not,  as 
in  prose,  simple  representatives  of  objects  and  ideas:  they  are 
parts  of  an  organic  whole, — they  are  tones  in  the  harmony." 
He  thereupon  illustrates  the  effect  of  translation  by  changing 
certain  well-known  English  stanzas  into  others,  equivalent 
in  meaning,  but  lacking  their  felicity  of  words,  their  grace  and 
melody.  I  cannot  accept  this  illustration  as  valid,  because 
Mr.  Lewes  purposely  omits  the  very  quality  which  an  honest 
translator  should  exhaust  his  skill  in  endeavoring  to  repro- 
duce. He  turns  away  from  the  one  best  word  or  phrase  in 
the  English  lines  he  quotes,  whereas  the  translator  seeks  pre- 
cisely that  one  best  word  or  phrase  (having  all  the  resources 
of  his  language  at  command),  to  represent  what  is  said  in 
another  language.  More  than  this,  his  task  is  not  simply 
mechanical:  he  must  feel,  and  be  guided  by,  a  secondary  in- 
spiration. Surrendering  himself  to  the  full  possession  of  the 
spirit  which  shall  speak  through  him,  he  receives,  also,  a  por- 
tion of  the  same  creative  power.  Mr.  Lewes  reaches  this  con- 
clusion: "If,  therefore,  we  reflect  what  a  poem  Faust  is,  and 
that  it  contains  almost  every  variety  of  style  and  metre,  it  will 
be  tolerably  evident  that  no  one  unacquainted  with  the  original 
can  form  an  adequate  idea  of  it  from  translation,"  f  which  is 

•Life  of  Goethe  (Book  VI.). 

t  Mr.  Lewes  gives  the  following  advice:  "The  English  reader  would  perhaps 
best  succeed  who  should  first  read  Dr.  Anstcr's  brilliant  paraphrase,  and  then 
carefully  go  through  Hayward's  prose  translation."  This  is  singularly  at  variance 
with  the  view  he  has  just  expressed.  Dr.  Anstcr's  version  is  an  almost  incredible 

16 


certainly  correct  of  any  translation  wherein  something  of  the 
rhythmical  variety  and  beauty  of  the  original  is  not  retained. 
That  very  much  of  the  rhythmical  character  may  be  retained 
in  English,  was  long  ago  shown  by  Mr.  Carlyle,*  in  the 
passages  which  he  translated,  both  literally  and  rhythmically, 
from  the  Helena  (Part  Second).  In  fact,  we  have  so  many 
instances  of  the  possibility  of  reciprocally  transferring  the 
finest  qualities  of  English  and  German  poetry,  that  there  is 
no  sufficient  excuse  for  an  unmetrical  translation  of  Faust. 
I  refer  especially  to  such  subtile  and  melodious  lyrics  as  "The 
Castle  by  the  Sea,"  of  Uhland,  and  the  "Silent  Land"  of  Salis, 
translated  by  Mr.  Longfellow;  Goethe's  "Minstrel"  and 
"Coptic  Song,"  by  Dr.  Hedge;  Heine's  "Two  Grenadiers,"  by 
Dr.  Furness,  and  many  of  Heine's  songs  by  Mr.  Leland;  and 
also  to  the  German  translations  of  English  lyrics,  by  Freilig- 
rath  and  Strodtmann.t 

I  have  a  more  serious  objection,  however,  to  urge  against 
Mr.  Hayward's  prose  translation.  Where  all  the  restraints  of 
verse  are  flung  aside,  we  should  expect,  at  least,  as  accurate 
a  reproduction  of  the  sense,  spirit,  and  tone  of  the  original, 

dilution  of  the  original,  written  in  other  metres;  while  Hayward's  entirely  omits 
the  clement  of  poetry. 
'Foreign  Review,   1828. 
t  When  Freiligrath  can  thus'  give  us  Walter  Scott: — 

"Kommt,  wic  der  Wind  kommt, 
Wenn  Wilder  erzittern 
Kommt,  wie  die  Brandung 
Wenn  Flotten  zersplittern ! 
Schnell  heran,  schnell  herab, 
Schneller  kommt  Al'e! — 
Hauptling  und  Bub*  und  Knapp, 
Hcrr  und  Vasalle!" 

or  Strodtmann  thus  reproduce  Tennyson: — 

"Es  fallt  der  Strahl  auf  Burg  und  Thai, 

Und  schneeige  Gipfel,  reich  an  Sagen; 
Viel"  Lichter  wehn  auf  blauen  Seen, 

Bergab  die  Wasserstiirze  jagen! 
Bias,  Hiifthorn,  bias,  in  Wiedcrhall  erschallend: 
Bias,   Horn — antwortet,   Echos,   hallend,    hall  end,   hallend!" 

— it  must  be  a  dull  ear  which  would  be  satisfied  with  the  omission  of  rhythm 
and  rhyme. 

17 


as  the  genius  of  our  language  will  permit.  So  far  from 
having  given  us  such  a  reproduction,  Mr.  Hayward  not  only 
occasionally  mistakes  the  exact  meaning  of  the  German  text,* 
but,  wherever  two  phrases  may  be  used  to  express  the  meaning 
with  equal  fidelity,  he  very  frequently  selects  that  which  has 
the  less  grace,  strength,  or  beauty  .f  For  there  are  few  things 
which  may  not  be  said,  in  English,  in  a  twofold  manner, — 
one  poetic,  and  the  other  prosaic.  In  German,  equally,  a  word 
which  in  ordinary  use  has  a  bare  prosaic  character  may  re- 
ceive a  fairer  and  finer  quality  from  its  place  in  verse.  The 
prose  translator  should  certainly  be  able  to  feel  the  manifesta- 
tion of  this  law  in  both  languages,  and  should  so  choose  his 
words  as  to  meet  their  reciprocal  requirements.  A  man,  how- 
ever, who  is  not  keenly  sensible  to  the  power  and  beauty  and 
value  of  rhythm,  is  likely  to  overlook  these  delicate  yet  most 
necessary  distinctions.  The  author's  thought  is  stripped  of 
a  last  grace  in  passing  through  his  mind,  and  frequently 
presents  very  much  the  same  resemblance  to  the  original  as  an 
unhewn  shaft  to  the  fluted  column.  Mr.  Hayward  uncon- 
sciously illustrates  his  lack  of  a  refined  appreciation  of  verse, 
"in  giving,"  as  he  says,  "a  sort  of  rhythmical  arrangement  to 

*  On  his  second  page,  the  line  Mein  Lied  ertont  der  unbekflnnten  Menge,  "My 
song  sounds  to  the  unknown  multitude,"  is  translated:  "My  sorrow  voices  itself 
to  the  strange  throng."  Other  English  translators,  I  notice,  have  followed  Mr. 
Hayward  in  mistaking  Lied  for  Leid. 

1 1  take  but  one  out  of  numerous  instances,  for  the  sake  of  illustration.  The 
close  of  the  Soldier's  Song  (Part  I.  Scene  II.)  is: — 
"Kiihn  is  das  Miihen, 

Herrlich  der  Lohnl 

Und  die  Soldaten 

Zichen  davon." 
Literally: 

Bold  is  the  endeavor, 

Splendid  the  pay! 

And  the  soldiers 

March  away. 

This  Mr.  Hayward  translates: — 

Bold  the  adventure, 
Noble  the  reward—- 
And the  soldiers 
Are  off. 

18 


JFaust 

the  lyrical  parts,"  his  object  being  "to  convey  some  notion  of 
the  variety  of  versification  which  forms  one  great  charm  of 
the  poem."  A  literal  translation  is  always  possible  in  the 
unrhymed  passages;  but  even  here  Mr.  Hay  ward's  ear  did  not 
dictate  to  him  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  original  rhythm. 

While,  therefore,  I  heartily  recognize  his  lofty  appreciation 
of  Faust, — while  I  honor  him  for  the  patient  and  conscientious 
labor  he  has  bestowed  upon  his  translation, — I  cannot  but  feel 
that  he  has  himself  illustrated  the  unsoundness  of  his  argu- 
ment. Nevertheless,  the  circumstance  that  his  prose  transla- 
tion of  Faust  has  received  so  much  acceptance  proves  those 
qualities  of  the  original  work  which  cannot  be  destroyed  by 
a  test  so  violent.  From  the  cold  bare  outline  thus  produced, 
the  reader  unacquainted  with  the  German  language  would 
scarcely  guess  what  glow  of  color,  what  richness  of  change- 
ful life,  what  fluent  grace  and  energy  of  movement  have  been 
lost  in  the  process.  We  must,  of  course,  gratefully  receive  such 
an  outline,  where  a  nearer  approach  to  the  form  of  the  origi- 
nal is  impossible,  but,  until  the  latter  has  been  demonstrated, 
we  are  wrong  to  remain  content  with  the  cheaper  substitute. 

It  seems  to  me  that  in  all  discussions  upon  this  subject  the 
capacities  of  the  English  language  have  received  but  scanty 
justice.  The  intellectual  tendencies  of  our  race  have  always 
been  somewhat  conservative,  and  its  standards  of  literary  taste 
or  belief,  once  set  up,  are  not  varied  without  a  struggle.  The 
English  ear  is  suspicious  of  new  metres  and  unaccustomed 
forms  of  expression:  there  are  critical  detectives  on  the  track 
of  every  author,  and  a  violation  of  the  accepted  canons  is 
followed  by  a  summons  to  judgment.  Thus  the  tendency 
is  to  contract  rather  than  to  expand  the  acknowledged  excel- 
lences of  the  language.*  The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  a  nearly 

*  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  quoting  the  following  passage  from  Jacob 
Grimm:  "No  one  of  all  the  modern  languages  has  acquired  a  greater  force  and 
strength  than  the  English,  through  the  derangement  and  relinquishment  of  its 
ancient  laws  of  sound.  The  unteachable  (nevertheless  lecamable)  profusion  of  its 
middle-tones  has  conferred  upon  it  an  intrinsic  power  of  expression,  such  as  no 
other  human  tongue  ever  possessed.  Its  entire,  thoroughly  intellectual  and  wonder- 
fully successful  foundation  and  perfected  development  issued  from  a  marvellous 

19 


jfaust 

literal  translation  of  Faust  in  the  original  metres  have  been 
exaggerated,  because  certain  affinities  between  the  two  lan- 
guages have  not  been  properly  considered.  With  all  the 
splendor  of  versification  in  the  work,  it  contains  but  few 
metres  of  which  the  English  tongue  is  not  equally  capable. 
Hood  has  familiarized  us  with  dactylic  (triple)  rhymes,  and 
they  are  remarkably  abundant  and  skilful  in  Mr.  Lowell's 
"Fable  for  the  Critics":  even  the  unrhymed  iambic  hexameter 
of  the  Helena  occurs  now  and  then  in  Milton's  Samson 
Agonistes.  It  is  true  that  the  metrical  foot  into  which  the 
German  language  most  naturally  falls  is  the  trochaic,  while  in 
English  it  is  the  iambic:  it  is  true  that  German  is  rich, 
involved,  and  tolerant  of  new  combinations,  while  English  is 
simple,  direct,  and  rather  shy  of  compounds;  but  precisely 
these  differences  are  so  modified  in  the  German  of  Faust  that 
there  is  a  mutual  approach  of  the  two  languages.  In  Faust, 
the  iambic  measure  predominates;  the  style  is  compact;  the 
many  licenses  which  the  author  allows  himself  are  all  directed 
towards  a  shorter  mode  of  construction.  On  the  other  hand, 
English  metre  compels  the  use  of  inversions,  admits  many 
verbal  liberties  prohibited  to  prose,  and  so  inclines  towards 
various  flexible  features  of  its  sister-tongue  that  many  lines  of 
Faust  may  be  repeated  in  English  without  the  slightest  change 
of  meaning,  measure,  or  rhyme.  There  are  words,  it  is  true, 
with  so  delicate  a  bloom  upon  them  that  it  can  in  no  wise  be 
preserved;  but  even  such  words  will  always  lose  less  when 
they  carry  with  them  their  rhythmical  atmosphere.  The  flow 

union  of  the  two  noblest  tongues  of  Europe,  the  Germanic  and  the  Romanic. 
Their  mutual  relation  in  the  English  language  is  well  known,  since  the  former 
furnished  chiefly  the  material  basis,  while  the  latter  added  the  intellectual  concep- 
tions. The  English  language,  by  and  through  which  the  greatest  and  most  eminent 
poet  of  modern  times — as  contrasted  with  ancient  classical  poetry — (of  course  I 
can  refer  only  to  Shakespeare)  was  begotten  and  nourished,  has  a  just  claim  to  be 
called  a  language  of  the  world;  and  it  appears  to  be  destined,  like  the  English 
race,  to  a  higher  and  broader  sway  in  all  quarters  of  the  earth.  For  in  richness, 
in  compact  adjustment  of  parts,  and  in  pure  intelligence,  none  of  the  living 
languages  can  be  compared  with  it, — not  even  our  German,  which  is  divided 
even  as  we  are  divided,  and  which  must  cast  off  many  imperfections  before  it 
can  boldly  enter  on  its  career." — Ueber  den  Ursprung  der  Sprachc. 

20 


of  Goethe's  verse  is  sometimes  so  similar  to  that  of  the  corre- 
sponding English  metre,  that  not  only  its  harmonies  and 
caesural  pauses,  but  even  its  punctuation,  may  be  easily  re- 
tained. 

I  am  satisfied  that  the  difference  between  a  translation  of 
Faust  in  prose  or  metre  is  chiefly  one  of  labor, — and  of  that 
labor  which  is  successful  in  proportion  as  it  is  joyously  per- 
formed. My  own  task  has  been  cheered  by  the  discovery,  that 
the  more  closely  I  reproduced  the  language  of  the  original, 
the  more  of  its  rhythmical  character  was  transferred  at  the 
same  time.  If,  now  and  then,  there  was  an  inevitable  alterna- 
tive of  meaning  or  music,  I  gave  the  preference  to  the  former. 
By  the  term  "original  metres"  I  do  not  mean  a  rigid,  un- 
yielding adherence  to  every  foot,  line,  and  rhyme  of  the 
German  original,  although  this  has  very  nearly  been  accom- 
plished. Since  the  greater  part  of  the  work  is  written  in  an 
irregular  measure,  the  lines  varying  from  three  to  six  feet,  and 
the  rhymes  arranged  according  to  the  author's  will,  I  do  not 
consider  that  an  occasional  change  in  the  number  of  feet, 
or  order  of  rhyme,  is  any  violation  of  the  metrical  plan.  The 
single  slight  liberty  I  have  taken  with  the  lyrical  passages 
is  in  Margaret's  song, — "The  King  of  Thule," — in  which,  by 
omitting  the  alternate  feminine  rhymes,  yet  retaining  the 
metre,  I  was  enabled  to  make  the  translation  strictly  literal. 
If,  in  two  or  three  instances,  I  have  left  a  line  unrhymed,  I 
have  balanced  the  omission  by  giving  rhymes  to  other  lines 
which  stand  unrhymed  in  the  original  text.  For  the  same 
reason,  I  make  no  apology  for  the  imperfect  rhymes,  which 
are  frequently  a  translation  as  well  as  a  necessity.  With  all 
its  supreme  qualities,  Faust  is  far  from  being  a  technically 
perfect  work.* 

*"At  present,  everything  runs  in  technical  grooves,  and  the  critical  gentlemen 
begin  to  wrangle  whether  in  a  rhyme  an  s  should  correspond  with  an  s  and  not 
widi  sz.  If  I  were  young  and  reckless  enough,  I  would  purposely  offend  all  such 
technical  caprices:  I  would  use  alliteration,  assonance,  false  rhyme,  just  according 
to  my  own  will  or  convenience — but,  at  the  same  time,  I  would  attend  to  tht 

21 


JFau0t 

The  feminine  and  dactylic  rhymes,  which  have  been  for  the 
most  part  omitted  by  all  metrical  translators  except  Mr. 
Brooks,  are  indispensable.  The  characteristic  tone  of  many 
passages  would  be  nearly  lost,  without  them.  They  give  spirit 
and  grace  to  the  dialogue,  point  to  the  aphoristic  portions 
(especially  in  the  Second  Part),  and  an  ever-changing  music 
to  the  lyrical  passages.  The  English  language,  though  not  so 
rich  as  the  German  in  such  rhymes,  is  less  deficient  than  is 
generally  supposed.  The  difficulty  to  be  overcome  is  one  of 
construction  rather  than  of  the  vocabulary.  The  present  par- 
ticiple can  only  be  used  to  a  limited  extent,  on  account  of 
its  weak  termination,  and  the  want  of  an  accusative  form 
to  the  noun  also  restricts  the  arrangement  of  words  in  Eng- 
lish verse.  I  cannot  hope  to  have  been  always  successful;  but 
I  have  at  least  labored  long  and  patiently,  bearing  constantly 
in  mind  not  only  the  meaning  of  the  original  and  the  me- 
chanical structure  of  the  lines,  but  also  that  subtile  and  haunt- 
ing music  which  seems  to  govern  rhythm  instead  of  being 
governed  by  it.  B.  T. 

main   thing,   and   endeavor   to   say   so  many  good   things   that   every  one  would 
be  attracted  to  read  and  remember  them." — Goethe,  in  1831. 


AN  GOETHE 


I 

.  RHABENER  Geist,  im  Geisterreich  verlorenl 
1  j   Wo  immer  Deine  lichte  Wohnung  sey, 

Zum  hoh'ren  Schaffen  bist  Du  neugeboren, 


Und  singest  dort  die  voll're  Litanei. 
Von  jcnem  Streben  das  Du  auserfypren, 
Vom  reinstcn  JEthcr,  drin  Du  athmest  frei, 
O  ncige  Dich  zu  gnddigem  Erwiedern 
Des  letzten  Wiederhalh  von  Deinen  Liedern! 

n 

Den  alten  Musen  die  best'dubten  Kronen 

Nahmst  Du,  zu  neuem  Glanz,  mit  Buhner  Hand: 

Du  lost  die  Rdthsel  dltester  JEonen 

Durch  jungeren  Glauben,  helleren  Verstand, 

Und  machst,  wo  rege  Menschengeister  wohnen, 

Die  ganze  Erde  Dir  zum  Vaterland; 

Und  Deine  Junger  sehn  in  Dir,  verwundert, 

Verkorpert  schon  das  werdende  Jahrhundert. 

in 

Was  Du  gesungen,  Aller  Lust  und  Klagen, 
Des  Lebens  Wiederspruche,  neu  vermahlt, — 
Die  Harfe  tausendstimmig  jrisch  geschlagen, 
Die  Sha\speare  einst,  die  einst  Homer  gewahlt, — 
Darf  ich  in  fremde  Klange  ubertragen 
Das  Alles,  wo  so  Mancher  schon  gefehlt? 
Lass  Deinen  Geist  in  meiner  Stimme  J(lingen, 
Und  was  Du  sangst,  lass  mich  es  Dir  nachsingen! 

B.  T. 
23 


A  JAIN  ye  come,  ye  hovering  Forms!    I  find  ye, 
As  early  to  my  clouded  sight  ye  shone! 
Shall  I  attempt,  this  once,  to  seize  and  bind  ye? 
Still  o'er  my  heart  is  that  illusion  thrown? 
Ye  crowd  more  near!    Then,  be  the  reign  assigned  ye, 
And  sway  me  from  your  misty,  shadowy  zone! 
My  bosom  thrills,  with  youthful  passion  shaken, 
From  magic  airs  that  round  your  march  awaken. 

Of  joyous  days  ye  bring  the  blissful  vision; 

The  dear,  familiar  phantoms  rise  again, 

And,  like  an  old  and  half-extinct  tradition, 

First  Love  returns,  with  Friendship  in  his  train. 

Renewed  is  Pain:  with  mournful  repetition 

Life  tracks  his  devious,  labyrinthine  chain, 

And  names  the  Good,  whose  cheating  fortune  tore  them 

From  happy  hours,  and  left  me  to  deplore  them. 

They  hear  no  longer  these  succeeding  measures, 
The  souls,  to  whom  my  earliest  songs  I  sang: 

25 


Jfaust 

Dispersed  the  friendly  troop,  with  all  its  pleasures, 

And  still,  alas!  the  echoes  first  that  rang! 

I  bring  the  unknown  multitude  my  treasures; 

Their  very  plaudits  give  my  heart  a  pang, 

And  those  beside,  whose  joy  my  Song  so  flattered, 

If  still  they  live,  wide  through  the  world  are  scattered. 

And  grasps  me  now  a  long-unwonted  yearning 
For  that  serene  and  solemn  Spirit-Land: 
My  song,  to  faint  ./Eolian  murmurs  turning, 
Sways  like  a  harp-string  by  the  breezes  fanned. 
I  thrill  and  tremble;  tear  on  tear  is  burning, 
And  the  stern  heart  is  tenderly  unmanned. 
What  I  possess,  I  see  far  distant  lying, 
And  what  I  lost,  grows  real  and  undying. 


26 


-  f 


MANAGER     DRAMATIC  POET     MERRY-ANDREW 
MANAGER 

YOU  two,  who  oft  a  helping  hand 
Have  lent,  in  need  and  tribulation, 
Come,  let  me  know  your  expectation 
Of  this,  our  enterprise,  in  German  land! 
I  wish  the  crowd  to  feel  itself  well  treated, 
Especially  since  it  lives  and  lets  me  live; 
The  posts  are  set,  the  booth  of  boards  completed, 
And  each  awaits  the  banquet  I  shall  give. 
Already  there,  with  curious  eyebrows  raised, 
They  sit  sedate,  and  hope  to  be  amazed. 
I  know  how  one  the  People's  taste  may  flatter, 
Yet  here  a  huge  embarrassment  I  feel: 
What  they're  accustomed  to,  is  no  great  matter, 
But  then,  alas !  they've  read  an  awful  deal. 
How  shall  we  plan,  that  all  be  fresh  and  new, — 
Important  matter,  yet  attractive  too? 
For  'tis  my  pleasure  to  behold  them  surging, 

27 


jfauat 

When  to  our  booth  the  current  sets  apace, 

And  with  tremendous,  oft-repeated  urging, 

Squeeze  onward  through  the  narrow  gate  of  grace: 

By  daylight  even,  they  push  and  cram  in 

To  reach  the  seller's  box,  a  fighting  host, 

And  as  for  bread,  around  a  baker's  door,  in  famine, 

To  get  a  ticket  break  their  necks  almost. 

This  miracle  alone  can  work  the  Poet 

On  men  so  various:  now,  my  friend,  pray  show  it. 

POET 

Speak  not  to  me  of  yonder  motley  masses, 

Whom  but  to  see,  puts  out  the  fire  of  Song! 

Hide  from  my  view  the  surging  crowd  that  passes, 

And  in  its  whirlpool  forces  us  along! 

No,  lead  me  where  some  heavenly  silence  glasses 

The  purer  joys  that  round  the  Poet  throng, — 

Where  Love  and  Friendship  still  divinely  fashion 

The  bonds  that  bless,  the  wreaths  that  crown  his  passion! 

Ah,  every  utterance  from  the  depths  of  feeling 
The  timid  lips  have  stammeringly  expressed, — 
Now  failing,  now,  perchance,  success  revealing, — 
Gulps  the  wild  Moment  in  its  greedy  breast; 
Or  oft,  reluctant  years  its  warrant  sealing, 
Its  perfect  stature  stands  at  last  confessed! 
What  dazzles,  for  the  Moment  spends  its  spirit: 
What's  genuine,  shall  Posterity  inherit. 

MERRY-ANDREW 

Posterity!    Don't  name  the  word  to  me! 
If  7  should  choose  to  preach  Posterity, 
Where  would  you  get  contemporary  fun  ? 
That  men  will  have  it,  there's  no  blinking: 
A  fine  young  fellow's  presence,  to  my  thinking, 
Is  something  worth,  to  every  one. 

28 


Who  genially  his  nature  can  outpour, 
Takes  from  the  People's  moods  no  irritation; 
The  wider  circle  he  acquires,  the  more 
Securely  works  his  inspiration. 
Then  pluck  up  heart,  and  give  us  sterling  coin! 
Let  Fancy  be  with  her  attendants  fitted, — 
Sense,  Reason,  Sentiment,  and  Passion  join, — 
But  have  a  care,  lest  Folly  be  omitted! 

MANAGER 

Chiefly,  enough  of  incident  prepare! 

They  come  to  look,  and  they  prefer  to  stare. 

Reel  off  a  host  of  threads  before  their  faces, 

So  that  they  gape  in  stupid  wonder:  then 

By  sheer  diffuseness  you  have  won  their  graces, 

And  are,  at  once,  most  popular  of  men. 

Only  by  mass  you  touch  the  mass;  for  any 

Will  finally,  himself,  his  bit  select: 

Who  offers  much,  brings  something  unto  many, 

And  each  goes  home  content  with  the  effect. 

If  you've  a  piece,  why,  just  in  pieces  give  it: 

A  hash,  a  stew,  will  bring  success,  believe  it! 

Tis  easily  displayed,  and  easy  to  invent. 

What  use,  a  Whole  compactly  to  present? 

Your  hearers  pick  and  pluck,  as  soon  as  they  receive  it! 

POET 

You  do  not  feel,  how  such  a  trade  debases; 
How  ill  it  suits  the  Artist,  proud  and  true! 
The  botching  work  each  fine  pretender  traces 
Is,  I  perceive,  a  principle  with  you. 

MANAGER 

Such  a  reproach  not  in  the  least  offends; 
A  man  who  some  result  intends 
Must  use  the  tools  that  best  are  fitting. 

29 


JFaust 

Reflect,  soft  wood  is  given  to  you  for  splitting, 

And  then,  observe  for  whom  you  write! 

If  one  comes  bored,  exhausted  quite, 

Another,  satiate,  leaves  the  banquet's  tapers, 

And,  worst  of  all,  full  many  a  wight 

Is  fresh  from  reading  of  the  daily  papers. 

Idly  to  us  they  come,  as  to  a  masquerade, 

Mere  curiosity  their  spirits  warming: 

The  ladies  with  themselves,  and  with  their  finery,  aid, 

Without  a  salary  their  parts  performing. 

What  dreams  are  yours  in  high  poetic  places  ? 

You're  pleased,  forsooth,  full  houses  to  behold? 

Draw  near,  and  view  your  patrons'  faces! 

The  half  are  coarse,  the  half  are  cold. 

One,  when  the  play  is  out,  goes  home  to  cards; 

A  wild  night  on  a  wench's  breast  another  chooses: 

Why  should  you  rack,  poor,  foolish  bards, 

For  ends  like  these,  the  gracious  Muses? 

I  tell  you,  give  but  more — more,  ever  more,  they  ask: 

Thus  shall  you  hit  the  mark  of  gain  and  glory. 

Seek  to  confound  your  auditory! 

To  satisfy  them  is  a  task. — 

What  ails  you  now?  Is't  suffering,  or  pleasure? 

POET 

Go,  find  yourself  a  more  obedient  slave! 
What!  shall  the  Poet  that  which  Nature  gave, 
The  highest  right,  supreme  Humanity, 
Forfeit  so  wantonly,  to  swell  your  treasure  ? 
Whence  o'er  the  heart  his  empire  free? 
The  elements  of  Life  how  conquers  he? 
Is't  not  his  heart's  accord,  urged  outward  far  and  dim, 
To  wind  the  world  in  unison  with  him  ? 
When  on  the  spindle,  spun  to  endless  distance, 
By  Nature's  listless  hand  the  thread  is  twirled, 
And  the  discordant  tones  of  all  existence 

30 


In  sullen  jangle  are  together  hurled, 

Who,  then,  the  changeless  orders  of  creation 

Divides,  and  kindles  into  rhythmic  dance? 

Who  brings  the  One  to  join  the  general  ordination, 

Where  it  may  throb  in  grandest  consonance  ? 

Who  bids  the  storm  to  passion  stir  the  bosom? 

In  brooding  souls  the  sunset  burn  above  ? 

Who  scatters  every  fairest  April  blossom 

Along  the  shining  path  of  Love? 

Who  braids  the  noteless  leaves  to  crowns,  requiting 

Desert  with  fame,  in  Action's  every  field? 

Who  makes  Olympus  sure,  the  Gods  uniting? 

The  might  of  Man,  as  in  the  Bard  revealed. 

MERRY-ANDREW 

So,  these  fine  forces,  in  conjunction, 

Propel  the  high  poetic  function, 

As  in  a  love-adventure  they  might  play! 

You  meet  by  accident;  you  feel,  you  stay, 

And  by  degrees  your  heart  is  tangled; 

Bliss  grows  apace,  and  then  its  course  is  jangled; 

You're  ravished  quite,  then  comes  a  touch  of  woe, 

And  there's  a  neat  romance,  completed  ere  you  know! 

Xet  us,  then,  such  a  drama  give! 

Grasp  the  exhaustless  life  that  all  men  live! 

Each  shares  therein,  though  few  may  comprehend: 

Where'er  you  touch,  there's  interest  without  end. 

In  motley  pictures  little  light, 

Much  error,  and  of  truth  a  glimmering  mite, 

Thus  the  best  beverage  is  supplied, 

Whence  all  the  world  is  cheered  and  edified. 

Then,  at  your  play,  behold  the  fairest  flower 

Of  youth  collect,  to  hear  the  revelation! 

Each  tender  soul,  with  sentimental  power, 

Sucks  melancholy  food  from  your  creation; 

And  now  in  this,  now  that,  the  leaven  works, 


JFaust 

For  each  beholds  what  in  his  bosom  lurks. 

They  still  are  moved  at  once  to  weeping  or  to  laughter, 

Still  wonder  at  your  flights,  enjoy  the  show  they  sec: 

A  mind,  once  formed,  is  never  suited  after; 

One  yet  in  growth  will  ever  grateful  be. 

POET 

Then  give  me  back  that  time  of  pleasures, 

While  yet  in  joyous  growth  I  sang, — 

When,  like  a  fount,  the  crowding  measures 

Uninterrupted  gushed  and  sprang! 

Then  bright  mist  veiled  the  world  before  me, 

In  opening  buds  a  marvel  woke, 

As  I  the  thousand  blossoms  broke, 

Which  every  valley  richly  bore  me! 

I  nothing  had,  and  yet  enough  for  youth — 

Joy  in  Illusion,  ardent  thirst  for  Truth. 

Give,  unrestrained,  the  old  emotion, 

The  bliss  that  touched  the  verge  of  pain, 

The  strength  of  Hate,  Love's  deep  devotion, — 

O,  give  me  back  my  youth  again! 

MERRY  ANDREW 

Youth,  good  my  friend,  you  certainly  require 
When  foes  in  combat  sorely  press  you; 
When  lovely  maids,  in  fond  desire, 
Hang  on  your  bosom  and  caress  you; 
When  from  the  hard-won  goal  the  wreath 
Beckons  afar,  the  race  awaiting; 
When,  after  dancing  out  your  breath, 
You  pass  the  night  in  dissipating: — 
But  that  familiar  harp  with  soul 
To  play, — with  grace  and  bold  expression, 
And  towards  a  self-erected  goal 
To  walk  with  many  a  sweet  digression, — 

32 


JFaust 

This,  aged  Sirs,  belongs  to  you, 
And  we  no  less  revere  you  for  that  reason: 
Age  childish  makes,  they  say,  but  'tis  not  true; 
We're  only  genuine  children  still,  in  Age's  season! 

MANAGER 

The  words  you've  bandied  are  sufficient; 

Tis  deeds  that  I  prefer  to  see: 

In  compliments  you're  both  proficient, 

But  might,  the  while,  more  useful  be. 

What  need  to  talk  of  Inspiration? 

Tis  no  companion  of  Delay. 

If  Poetry  be  your  vocation, 

Let  Poetry  your  will  obey! 

Full  well  you  know  what  here  is  wanting; 

The  crowd  for  strongest  drink  is  panting, 

And  such,  forthwith,  I'd  have  you  brew. 

What's  left  undone  to-day,  To-morrow  will  not  do. 

Waste  not  a  day  in  vain  digression: 

With  resolute,  courageous  trust 

Seize  every  possible  impression, 

And  make  it  firmly  your  possession; 
^You'll  then  work  on,  because  you  must. 
-Upon  our  German  stage,  you  know  it, 

Each  tries  his  hand  at  what  he  will; 

So,  take  of  traps  and  scenes  your  fill, 

And  all  you  find,  be  sure  to  show  it! 

Use  both  the  great  and  lesser  heavenly  light, — 

Squander  the  stars  in  any  number, 

Beasts,  birds,  trees,  rocks,  and  all  such  lumber, 

Fire,  water,  darkness,  Day  and  Night! 

Thus,  in  our  booth's  contracted  sphere, 

The  circle  of  Creation  will  appear, 

And  move,  as  we  deliberately  impel, 

From  Heaven,  across  the  World,  to  Hell! 

33 


34 


HEAVEN 


THE  LORD       THE  HEAVENLY  HOST 
MEPHISTOPHELES 


(The  THREE  ARCHANGELS  come  forward.) 


RAPHAEL 


sun-orb  sings,  in  emulation, 
'Mid  brother-spheres,  his  ancient  round: 
His  path  predestined  through  Creation 


He  ends  with  step  of  thunder-sound. 
The  angels  from,  his  visage  splendid 
Draw  power,  whose  measure  none  can  say; 
The  lofty  works,  uncomprehended, 
Are  bright  as  on  the  earliest  day. 

GABRIEL 

And  swift,  and  swift  beyond  conceiving, 
The  splendor  of  the  world  goes  round, 
Day's  Eden-brightness  still  relieving 
The  awful  Night's  intense  profound: 

35 


JFaust 

The  ocean-tides  in  foam  are  breaking, 
Against  the  rocks'  deep  bases  hurled, 
And  both,  the  spheric  race  partaking, 
Eternal,  swift,  are  onward  whirled! 

MICHAEL 

And  rival  storms  abroad  are  surging 
From  sea  to  land,  from  land  to  sea. 
A  chain  of  deepest  action  forging 
Round  all,  in  wrathful  energy. 
There  flames  a  desolation,  blazing 
Before  the  Thunder's  crashing  way: 
Yet,  Lord,  Thy  messengers  are  praising 
The  gentle  movement  of  Thy  Day. 

THE  THREE 

Though  still  by  them  uncomprehended, 
From  these  the  angels  draw  their  power, 
And  all  Thy  works,  sublime  and  splendid, 
Are  bright  as  in  Creation's  hour. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Since  Thou,  O  Lord,  deign'st  to  approach  again 

And  ask  us  how  we  do,  in  manner  kindest, 

And  heretofore  to  meet  myself  wert  fain, 

Among  Thy  menials,  now,  my  face  Thou  findest. 

Pardon,  this  troop  I  cannot  follow  after 

With  lofty  speech,  though  by  them  scorned  and  spurned: 

My  pathos  certainly  would  move  Thy  laughter, 

If  Thou  hadst  not  all  merriment  unlearned. 

Of  suns  and  worlds  I've  nothing  to  be  quoted; 

How  men  torment  themselves,  is  all  I've  noted. 

The  little  god  o'  the  world  sticks  to  the  same  old  way, 

And  is  as  whimsical  as  on  Creation's  day. 

Life  somewhat  better  might  content  him, 

36 


JFaust 

But  for  the  gleam  of  heavenly  light  which  Thou  hast  lent 

him: 

He  calls  it  Reason — thence  his  power's  increased, 
To  be  far  beastlier  than  any  beast. 
Saving  Thy  Gracious  Presence,  he  to  me 
A  long-legged  grasshopper  appears  to  be, 
That  springing  flies,  and  flying  springs, 
And  in  the  grass  the  same  old  ditty  sings. 
Would  he  still  lay  among  the  grass  he  grows  in! 
Each  bit  of  dung  he  seeks,  to  stick  his  nose  in. 

THE   LORD 

Hast  thou,  then,  nothing  more  to  mention? 
Com'st  ever,  thus,  with  ill  intention? 
Find'st  nothing  right  on  earth,  eternally? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

No,  Lord!    I  find  things,  there,  still  bad  as  they  can  be. 

Man's  misery  even  to  pity  moves  my  nature; 

I've  scarce  the  heart  to  plague  the  wretched  creature. 

THE   LORD 

Know'st  Faust? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  Doctor  Faust? 

THE   LORD 

My  servant,  he! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Forsooth!    He  serves  you  after  strange  devices: 
No  earthly  meat  or  drink  the  fool  suffices: 
His  spirit's  ferment  far  aspireth; 
Half  conscious  of  his  frenzied,  crazed  unrest, 
The  fairest  stars  from  Heaven  he  requireth, 
From  Earth  the  highest  raptures  and  the  best, 

37 


And  all  the  Near  and  Far  that  he  desireth 
Fails  to  subdue  the  tumult  of  his  breast. 


THE   LORD 


Though  still  confused  his  service  unto  Me, 
I  soon  shall  lead  him  to  a  clearer  morning. 
Sees  not  the  gardener,  even  while  buds  his  tree, 
Both  flower  and  fruit  the  future  years  adorning? 


MEPHISTOPHELES 


What  will  you  bet?    There's  still  a  chance  to  gain  him, 
If  unto  me  full  leave  you  give, 
Gently  upon  my  road  to  train  him! 


THE   LORD 


As  long  as  he  on  earth  shall  live, 
So  long  I  make  no  prohibition. 
While  Man's  desires  and  aspirations  stir, 
He  cannot  choose  but  err. 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

My  thanks!    I  find  the  dead  no  acquisition, 

And  never  cared  to  have  them  in  my  keeping. 

I  much  prefer  the  cheeks  where  ruddy  blood  is  leaping, 

And  when  a  corpse  approaches,  close  my  house: 

It  goes  with  me,  as  with  the  cat  the  mouse. 

THE   LORD 

Enough!    What  thou  hast  asked  is  granted. 
Turn  off  this  spirit  from  his  fountain-head; 
To  trap  him,  let  thy  snares  be  planted, 
And  him,  with  thee,  be  downward  led; 
Then  stand  abashed,  when  thou  art  forced  to  say: 

38 


JFaust 

A  good  man,  through  obscurest  aspiration, 
Has  still  an  instinct  of  the  one  true  way. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Agreed !  But  'tis  a  short  probation. 

About  my  bet  I  feel  no  trepidation. 

If  I  fulfil  my  expectation, 

You'll  let  me  triumph  with  a  swelling  breast: 

Dust  shall  he  eat,  and  with  a  zest, 

As  did  a  certain  snake,  my  near  relation. 

THE   LORD 

Therein  thou'rt  free,  according  to  thy  merits; 

The  like  of  thee  have  never  moved  My  hate. 

Of  all  the  bold,  denying  Spirits, 

The  waggish  knave  least  trouble  doth  create. 

Man's  active  nature,  flagging,  seeks  too  soon  the  level; 

Unqualified  repose  he  learns  to  crave; 

Whence,  willingly,  the  comrade  him  I  gave, 

Who  works,  excites,  and  must  create,  as  Devil. 

But  ye,  God's  sons  in  love  and  duty, 
_JEnjoy  the  rich,  the  ever-living  Beauty! 
^Creative  Power,  that  works  eternal  schemes, 

Clasp  you  in  bonds  of  love,  relaxing  never, 

And  what  in  wavering  apparition  gleams 

Fix  in  its  place  with  thoughts  that  stand  forever! 

(Heaven  doses:  the  ARCHANGELS  separate.} 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (solus) 

1  like,  at  times,  to  hear  The  Ancient's  word, 
And  have  a  care  to  be  most  civil: 
It's  really  kind  of  such  a  noble  Lord 
So  humanly  to  gossip  with  the  Devil! 

39 


FIRST  PART  OF  THE  TRAGEDY 


NIGHT 

(v4  lofty-arched,  narrow,  Gothic  chamber.  FAUST,  «*  a  chair  at 
his  des\,  restless.) 

FAUST 

I'VE  studied  now  Philosophy 
And  Jurisprudence,  Medicine, — 
And  even,  alas!  Theology, — 
From  end  to  end,  with  labor  keen; 
And  here,  poor  fool!  with  all  my  lore 
I  stand,  no  wiser  than  before: 
I'm  Magister — yea,  Doctor — hight, 
And  straight  or  cross-wise,  wrong  or  right, 
These  ten  years  long,  with  many  woes, 


JFaust 

I've  led  my  scholars  by  the  nose, — 

And  see,  that  nothing  can  be  known! 

That  knowledge  cuts  me  to  the  bone. 

I'm  cleverer,  true,  than  those  fops  of  teachers, 

Doctors  and  Magisters,  Scribes  and  Preachers; 

Neither  scruples  nor  doubts  come  now  to  smite  me, 

Nor  Hell  nor  Devil  can  longer  affright  me. 

For  this,  all  pleasure  am  I  foregoing; 

I  do  not  pretend  to  aught  worth  knowing, 

I  do  not  pretend  I  could  be  a  teacher 

To  help  or  convert  a  fellow-creature. 

Then,  too,  I've  neither  lands  nor  gold, 

Nor  the  world's  least  pomp  or  honor  hold — 

No  dog  would  endure  such  a  curst  existence! 

Wherefore,  from  Magic  I  seek  assistance, 

That  many  a  secret  perchance  I  reach 

Through  spirit-power  and  spirit-speech, 

And  thus  the  bitter  task  forego 

Of  saying  the  things  I  do  not  know, — 

That  I  may  detect  the  inmost  force 

Which  binds  the  world,  and  guides  its  course; 

Its  germs,  productive  powers  explore, 

And  rummage  in  empty  words  no  more! 

O  full  and  splendid  Moon,  whom  I 
Have,  from  this  desk,  seen  climb  the  sky 
So  many  a  midnight, — would  thy  glow 
For  the  last  time  beheld  my  woe! 
Ever  thine  eye,  most  mournful  friend, 
O'er  books  and  papers  saw  me  bend; 
But  would  that  I,  on  mountains  grand, 
Amid  thy  blessed  light  could  stand, 
With  spirits  through  mountain-caverns  hover, 
Float  in  thy  twilight  the  meadows  over, 
And,  freed  from  the  fumes  of  lore  that  swathe  me, 
To  health  in  thy  dewy  fountains  bathe  me! 

42 


Ah,  me!  this  dungeon  still  I  see, 
This  drear,  accursed  masonry, 
Where  even  the  welcome  daylight  strains 
But  duskly  through  the  painted  panes. 
Hemmed  in  by  many  a  toppling  heap 
Of  books  worm-eaten,  gray  with  dust, 
Which  to  the  vaulted  ceiling  creep, 
Against  the  smoky  paper  thrust, — 
With  glasses,  boxes,  round  me  stacked, 
And  instruments  together  hurled, 
Ancestral  lumber,  stuffed  and  packed — 
Such  is  my  world:  and  what  a  world! 

And  do  I  ask,  wherefore  my  heart 
Falters,  oppressed  with  unknown  needs? 
Why  some  inexplicable  smart 
All  movement  of  my  life  impedes? 
Alas!  in  living  Nature's  stead, 
Where  God  His  human  creature  set, 
In  smoke  and  mould  the  fleshless  dead 
And  bones  of  beasts  surround  me  yet! 

Fly!    Up,  and  seek  the  broad,  free  land! 
And  this  one  Book  of  Mystery 
From  Nostradamus'  very  hand, 
Is't  not  sufficient  company? 
When  I  the  starry  courses  know, 
And  Nature's  wise  instruction  seek, 
With  light  of  power  my  soul  shall  glow, 
As  when  to  spirits  spirits  speak. 
*Tis  vain,  this  empty  brooding  here, 
Though  guessed  the  holy  symbols  be: 
Ye,  Spirits,  come — ye  hover  near — 
Oh,  if  you  hear  me,  answer  me! 

(He  opens  the  Roo\,  and  perceives  the  sign  of  the  Macrocosm.} 

43 


jfauat 

Ha!  what  a  sudden  rapture  leaps  from  this 

I  view,  through  all  my  senses  swiftly  flowing! 

I  feel  a  youthful,  holy,  vital  bliss 

In  every  vein  and  fibre  newly  glowing. 

Was  it  a  God,  who  traced  this  sign, 

With  calm  across  my  tumult  stealing, 

My  troubled  heart  to  joy  unsealing, 

With  impulse,  mystic  and  divine, 

The  powers  of  Nature  here,  around  my  path,  revealing? 

Am  I  a  God? — so  clear  mine  eyes! 

In  these  pure  features  I  behold 

Creative  Nature  to  my  soul  unfold. 

What  says  the  sage,  now  first  I  recognize: 

"The  spirit-world  no  closures  fasten; 

Thy  sense  is  shut,  thy  heart  is  dead: 

Disciple,  up!  untiring,  hasten 

To  bathe  thy  breast  in  morning-red!" 

(He  contemplates  the  sign.) 

How  each  the  Whole  its  substance  gives, 

Each  in  the  other  works  and  lives! 

Like  heavenly  forces  rising  and  descending, 

Their  golden  urns  reciprocally  lending, 

With  wings  that  winnow  blessing 

From  Heaven  through  Earth  I  see  them  pressing, 

Filling  the  All  with  harmony  unceasing! 

How  grand  a  show!  but,  ah!  a  show  alone. 

Thee,  boundless  Nature,  how  make  thee  my  own? 

Where  you,  ye  beasts?  Founts  of  all  Being,  shining, 

Whereon  hang  Heaven's  and  Earth's  desire, 

Whereto  our  withered  hearts  aspire, — 

Ye  flow,  ye  feed:  and  am  I  vainly  pining? 

(He  turns  the  leaves  impatiently,  and  perceives  the  sign  of  the 

Earth-Spirit.) 
44 


JFaust 

How  otherwise  upon  me  works  this  sign! 

Thou,  Spirit  of  the  Earth,  art  nearer: 

Even  now  my  powers  are  loftier,  clearer; 

I  glow,  as  drunk  with  new-made  wine: 

New  strength  and  heart  to  meet  the  world  incite  me, 

The  woe  of  earth,  the  bliss  of  earth,  invite  me, 

And  though  the  shock  of  storms  may  smite  me, 

No  crash  of  shipwreck  shall  have  power  to  fright  me! 

Clouds  gather  over  me — 

The  moon  conceals  her  light — 

The  lamp's  extinguished! — 

Mists  rise, — red,  angry  rays  are  darting 

Around  my  head! — There  falls 

A  horror  from  the  vaulted  roof, 

And  seizes  me! 

I  feel  thy  presence,  Spirit  I  invoke! 

Reveal  thyself! 

Ha!  in  my  heart  what  rending  stroke! 

With  new  impulsion 

My  senses  heave  in  this  convulsion! 

I  feel  thee  draw  my  heart,  absorb,  exhaust  me: 

Thou  must!  thou  must!  and  though  my  life  it  cost  me! 

(He  seizes  the  boot^,  and  mysteriously  pronounces  the  sign  of 
the  Spirit.  A  ruddy  flame  flashes:  the  Spirit  appears  in 
the  flame.) 

SPIRIT 


FAUST  (with  averted  head) 
Terrible  to  see! 

SPIRIT 

Me  hast  thou  long  with  might  attracted, 
Long  from  my  sphere  thy  food  exacted, 
And  now — 

45 


FAUST 

Woe!    I  endure  not  thee! 

SPIRIT 

To  view  me  is  thine  aspiration, 

My  voice  to  hear,  my  countenance  to  see; 

Thy  powerful  yearning  moveth  me, 

Here  am  I! — what  mean  perturbation 

Thee,  superhuman,  shakes?    Thy  soul's  high  calling,  where? 

Where  is  the  breast,  which  from  itself  a  world  did  bear, 

And  shaped  and  cherished — which  with  joy  expanded, 

To  be  our  peer,  with  us,  the  Spirits,  banded  ? 

Where  art  thou,  Faust,  whose  voice  has  pierced  to  me, 

Who  towards  me  pressed  with  all  thine  energy  ? 

He  art  thou,  who,  my  presence  breathing,  seeing, 

Trembles  through  all  the  depths  of  being, 

A  writhing  worm,  a  terror-stricken  form  ? 

FAUST 

Thee,  form  of  flame,  shall  I  then  fear? 
Yes,  I  am  Faust:  I  am  thy  peer! 

SPIRIT 

In  the  tides  of  Life,  in  Action's  storm, 

A  fluctuant  wave, 

A  shuttle  free, 

Birth  and  the  Grave, 

An  eternal  sea, 

A  weaving,  flowing 

Life,  all-glowing, 

Thus  at  Time's  humming  loom  'tis  my  hand  prepares 
The  garment  of  Life  which  the  Deity  wears ! 

FAUST 

Thou,  who  around  the  wide  world  wendest, 
Thou  busy  Spirit,  how  near  I  feel  to  thee! 

46 


JFaust 

SPIRIT 

Thou'rt  like  the  Spirit  which  thou  comprehendest, 
Not  me! 

(Disappears.) 

FAUST  (overwhelmed) 
Not  thee! 
Whom  then? 
I,  image  of  the  Godhead! 
Not  even  like  thee! 

(A  J(noc1^.) 

O  Death! — I  know  it — 'tis  my  Famulus! 
My  fairest  luck  finds  no  fruition: 
In  all  the  fullness  of  my  vision 
The  soulless  sneak  disturbs  me  thus! 

(Enter  WAGNER,  in  dressing-gown  and  night-cap,  a  lamp  in 
his  hand.    FAUST  turns  impatiently.) 

WAGNER 

Pardon,  I  heard  your  declamation; 

Twas  sure  an  old  Greek  tragedy  you  read? 

In  such  an  art  I  crave  some  preparation, 

Since  now  it  stands  one  in  good  stead. 

I've  often  heard  it  said,  a  preacher 

Might  learn,  with  a  comedian  for  a  teacher. 

FAUST 

Yes,  when  the  priest  comedian  is  by  nature, 
As  haply  now  and  then  the  case  may  be. 

WAGNER 

Ah,  when  one  studies  thus,  a  prisoned  creature, 
That  scarce  the  world  on  holidays  can  see, — 
Scarce  through  a  glass,  by  rare  occasion, 
How  shall  one  lead  it  by  persuasion  ? 

47 


jfauat 

FAUST 

You'll  ne'er  attain  it,  save  you  know  the  feeling, 

Save  from  the  soul  it  rises  clear, 

Serene  in  primal  strength,  compelling 

The  hearts  and  minds  of  all  who  hear. 

You  sit  forever  gluing,  patching; 

You  cook  the  scraps  from  others'  fare; 

And  from  your  heap  of  ashes  hatching 

A  starveling  flame,  ye  blow  it  bare! 

Take  children's,  monkeys'  gaze  admiring, 

If  such  your  taste,  and  be  content; 

But  ne'er  from  heart  to  heart  you'll  speak  inspiring, 

Save  your  own  heart  is  eloquent! 

WAGNER 

Yet  through  delivery  orators  succeed; 
I  feel  that  I  am  far  behind,  indeed. 

FAUST 

Seek  thou  the  honest  recompense! 

Beware,  a  tinkling  fool  to  be! 

With  little  art,  clear  wit  and  sense 

Suggest  their  own  delivery; 

And  if  thou'rt  moved  to  speak  in  earnest, 

What  need,  that  after  words  thou  yearnest? 

Yes,  your  discourses,  with  their  glittering  show, 

Where  ye  for  men  twist  shredded  thought  like  paper, 

Are  unrefreshing  as  the  winds  that  blow 

The  rustling  leaves  through  chill  autumnal  vapor! 

WAGNER 

Ah,  God!  but  Art  is  long, 

And  Life,  alas!  is  fleeting. 

And  oft,  with  zeal  my  critic-duties  meeting, 

In  head  and  breast  there's  something  wrong. 


JFaust 

How  hard  it  is  to  compass  the  assistance 
Whereby  one  rises  to  the  source! 
And,  haply,  ere  one  travels  half  the  course 
Must  the  poor  devil  quit  existence. 

FAUST 

Is  parchment,  then,  the  holy  fount  before  thee, 
A  draught  wherefrom  thy  thirst  forever  slakes? 
No  true  refreshment  can  restore  thee, 
Save  what  from  thine  own  soul  spontaneous  breaks. 

WAGNER 

Pardon!  a  great  delight  is  granted 

When,  in  the  spirit  of  the  ages  planted, 

We  mark  how,  ere  our  times,  a  sage  has  thought, 

And  then,  how  far  his  work,  and  grandly,  we  have  brought. 

FAUST 

O  yes,  up  to  the  stars  at  last! 

Listen,  my  friend:  the  ages  that  are  past 

Are  now  a  book  with  seven  seals  protected: 
-What  you  the  Spirit  of  the  Ages  call 
His  nothing  but  the  spirit  of  you  all, 

Wherein  the  Ages  are  reflected. 

So,  oftentimes,  you  miserably  mar  it! 

At  the  first  glance  who  sees  it  runs  away. 

An  offal-barrel  and  a  lumber-garret, 

Or,  at  the  best,  a  Punch-and-Judy  play, 

With  maxims  most  pragmatical  and  hitting, 

As  in  the  mouths  of  puppets  are  befitting! 

WAGNER 

But  then,  the  world — the  human  heart  and  brain! 
Of  these  one  covets  some  slight  apprehension. 

49 


jfatist 

FAUST 

Yes,  of  the  kind  which  men  attain! 
Who  dares  the  child's  true  name  in  public  mention  ? 
The  few,  who  thereof  something  really  learned, 
Unwisely  frank,  with  hearts  that  spurned  concealing, 
And  to  the  mob  laid  bare  each  thought  and  feeling, 
Have  evermore  been  crucified  and  burned. 
I  pray  you,  Friend,  'tis  now  the  dead  of  night; 
Our  converse  here  must  be  suspended. 

WAGNER 

I  would  have  shared  your  watches  with  delight, 
That  so  our  learned  talk  might  be  extended. 
To-morrow,  though,  I'll  ask,  in  Easter  leisure, 
This  and  the  other  question,  at  your  pleasure. 
Most  zealously  I  seek  for  erudition: 
Much  do  I  know — but  to  know  all  is  my  ambition. 

FAUST  {solus) 

That  brain,  alone,  not  loses  hope,  whose  choice  is 
To  stick  in  shallow  trash  forevermore, — 
Which  digs  with  eager  hand  for  buried  ore, 
And,  when  it  finds  an  angle-worm,  rejoices! 

Dare  such  a  human  voice  disturb  the  flow, 

Around  me  here,  of  spirit-presence  fullest? 

And  yet,  this  once  my  thanks  I  owe 

To  thee,  of  all  earth's  sons  the  poorest,  dullest! 

For  thou  hast  torn  me  from  that  desperate  state 

Which  threatened  soon  to  overwhelm  my  senses: 

The  apparition  was  so  giant-great, 

It  dwarfed  and  withered  all  my  soul's  pretences! 

I,  image  of  the  Godhead,  who  began— 
Deeming  Eternal  Truth  secure  in  nearness— 

50 


JFau0t 

To  sun  myself  in  heavenly  light  and  clearness, 

And  laid  aside  the  earthly  man; — 

I,  more  than  Cherub,  whose  free  force  had  planned 

To  flow  through  Nature's  veins  in  glad  pulsation, 

To  reach  beyond,  enjoying  in  creation 

The  life  of  Gods,  behold  my  expiation ! 

A  thunder-word  hath  swept  me  from  my  stand. 

With  thee  I  dare  not  venture  to  compare  me. 

Though  I  possessed  the  power  to  draw  thee  near  me, 

The  power  to  keep  thee  was  denied  my  hand. 

When  that  ecstatic  moment  held  me, 

I  felt  myself  so  small,  so  great; 

But  thou  hast  ruthlessly  repelled  me 

Back  upon  Man's  uncertain  fate. 

What  shall  I  shun?    Whose  guidance  borrow? 

Shall  I  accept  that  stress  and  strife? 

Ah!  every  deed  of  ours,  no  less  than  every  sorrow, 

Impedes  the  onward  march  of  life. 

Some  alien  substance  more  and  more  is  cleaving 
To  all  the  mind  conceives  of  grand  and  fair; 
When  this  world's  Good  is  won  by  our  achieving, 
The  Better,  then,  is  named  a  cheat  and  snare. 
The  fine  emotions,  whence  our  lives  we  mould, 
Lie  in  the  earthly  tumult  dumb  and  cold. 
If  hopeful  Fancy  once,  in  daring  flight, 
Her  longings  to  the  Infinite  expanded, 
Yet  now  a  narrow  space  contents  her  quite, 
Since  Time's  wild  wave  so  many  a  fortune  stranded. 
Care  at  the  bottom  of  the  heart  is  lurking: 
Her  secret  pangs  in  silence  working, 
She,  restless,  rocks  herself,  disturbing  joy  and  rest: 
In  newer  masks  her  face  is  ever  drest, 
By  turns  as  house  and  land,  as  wife  and  child,  presented,- 
As  water,  fire,  as  poison,  steel: 

•51 


Jfaust 

We  dread  the  blows  we  never  feel, 

And  what  we  never  lose  is  yet  by  us  lamented! 

I  am  not  like  the  Gods!    That  truth  is  felt  too  deep: 

The  worm  am  I,  that  in  the  dust  doth  creep,— 

That,  while  in  dust  it  lives  and  seeks  its  bread, 

Is  crushed  and  buried  by  the  wanderer's  tread. 

Is  not  this  dust,  these  walls  within  them  hold, 

The  hundred  shelves,  which  cramp  and  chain  me, 

The  frippery,  the  trinkets  thousand-fold, 

That  in  this  mothy  den  restrain  me  ? 

Here  shall  I  find  the  help  I  need  ? 

Shall  here  a  thousand  volumes  teach  me  only 

That  men,  self-tortured,  everywhere  must  bleed, — 

And  here  and  there  one  happy  man  sits  lonely? 

Whaf  mean'st  thou  by  that  grin,  thou  hollow  skull, 

Save  that  thy  brain,  like  mine,  a  cloudy  mirror, 

Sought  once  the  shining  day,  and  then,  in  twilight  dull, 

Thirsting  for  Truth,  went  wretchedly  to  Error? 

Ye  instruments,  forsooth,  but  jeer  at  me 

With  wheel  and  cog,  and  shapes  uncouth  of  wonder; 

I  found  the  portal,  you  the  keys  should  be; 

Your  wards  are  deftly  wrought,  but  drive  no  bolts  asunder! 

Mysterious  even  in  open  day, 

Nature  retains  her  veil,  despite  our  clamors: 

That  which  she  doth  not  willingly  display 

Cannot  be  wrenched  from   her   with   levers,   screws,   and 

hammers. 

Ye  ancient  tools,  whose  use  I  never  knew, 
Here,  since  my  father  used  ye,  still  ye  moulder: 
Thou,  ancient  scroll,  hast  worn  thy  smoky  hue 
Since  at  this  desk  the  dim  lamp  wont  to  smoulder. 
Twere  better  far,  had  I  my  little  idly  spent, 
Than  now  to  sweat  beneath  its  burden,  I  confess  it! 
What  from  your  fathers'  heritage  is  lent, 
Earn  it  anew,  to  really  possess  it! 

52 


What  serves  not,  is  a  sore  impediment: 

The  Moment's  need  creates  the  thing  to  serve  and  bless  it! 

Yet,  wherefore  turns  my  gaze  to  yonder  point  so  lightly? 

Is  yonder  flask  a  magnet  for  mine  eyes? 

Whence,  all  around  me,  glows  the  air  so  brightly, 

As  when  in  woods  at  night  the  mellow  moonbeam  lies  ? 

I  hail  thee,  wondrous,  rarest  vial! 
I  take  thee  down  devoutly,  for  the  trial: 
Man's  art  and  wit  I  venerate  in  thee. 
Thou  summary  of  gentle  slumber-juices, 
Essence  of  deadly  finest  powers  and  uses, 
Unto  thy  master  show  thy  favor  free ! 
I  see  thee,  and  the  stings  of  pain  diminish; 
I  grasp  thee,  and  my  struggles  slowly  finish: 
My  spirit's  flood-tide  ebbeth  more  and  more. 
Out  on  the  open  ocean  speeds  my  dreaming; 
The  glassy  flood  before  my  feet  is  gleaming, 
A  new  day  beckons  to  a  newer  shore! 

A  fiery  chariot,  borne  on  buoyant  pinions, 
Sweeps  near  me  now !    I  soon  shall  ready  be 
To  pierce  the  ether's  high,  unknown  dominions, 
To  reach  new  spheres  of  pure  activity ! 
This  godlike  rapture,  this  supreme  existence, 
Do  I,  but  now  a  worm,  deserve  to  track  ? 
Yes,  resolute  to  reach  some  brighter  distance, 
On  Earth's  fair  sun  I  turn  my  back! 
Yes,  let  me  dare  those  gates  to  fling  asunder, 
Which  every  man  would  fain  go  slinking  by ! 
'Tis  time,  through  deeds  this  word  of  truth  to  thunder: 
That  with  the  height  of  Gods  Man's  dignity  may  vie! 
Nor  from  that  gloomy  gulf  to  shrink  affrighted, 
Where  Fancy  doth  herself  to  self -born  pangs  compel, — 
To  struggle  toward  that  pass  benighted, 

53 


Jfau0t 

Around  whose  narrow  mouth  flame  all  the  fires  of  Hell, — 

To  take  this  step  with  cheerful  resolution, 

Though  Nothingness  should  be  the  certain,  swift  conclusion! 

And  now  come  down,  thou  cup  of  crystal  clearest! 
Fresh  from  thine  ancient  cover  thou  appearest, 
So  many  years  forgotten  to  my  thought! 
Thou  shon'st  at  old  ancestral  banquets  cheery, 
The  solemn  guests  thou  madest  merry, 
When  one  thy  wassail  to  the  other  brought. 
The  rich  and  skilful  figures  o'er  thee  wrought, 
The  drinker's  duty,  rhyme-wise  to  explain  them, 
Or  in  one  breath  below  the  mark  to  drain  them, 
From  many  a  night  of  youth  my  memory  caught. 
Now  to  a  neighbor  shall  I  pass  thee  never, 
Nor  on  thy  curious  art  to  test  my  wit  endeavor: 
Here  is  a  juice  whence  sleep  is  swiftly  born. 
It  fills  with  browner  flood  thy  crystal  hollow; 
I  chose,  prepared  it:  thus  I  follow, — 
With  all  my  soul  the  final  drink  I  swallow, 
A  solemn  festal  cup,  a  greeting  to  the  morn! 

[He  sets  the  goblet  to  his  mouth. 
(Chime  of  bells  and  choral  song.) 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS 

Christ  is  arisen! 
Joy  to  the  Mortal  One, 
Whom  the  unmerited, 
Clinging,  inherited 
Needs  did  imprison. 

FAUST 

What  hollow  humming,  what  a  sharp,  clear  stroke, 
Drives  from  my  lip  the  goblet's,  at  their  meeting? 
Announce  the  booming  bells  already  woke 
The  first  glad  hour  of  Easter's  festal  greeting? 

54 


Ye  choirs,  have  ye  begun  the  sweet,  consoling  chant, 
Which,  through  the  night  of  Death,  the  angels  ministrant 
Sang,  God's  new  Covenant  repeating? 

CHORUS  OF  WOMEN 

With  spices  and  precious 
Balm,  we  arrayed  him; 
Faithful  and  gracious, 
We  tenderly  laid  him: 
Linen  to  bind  him 
Cleanlily  wound  we: 
Ah!  when  we  would  find  him, 
Christ  no  more  found  we! 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS 

Christ  is  ascended! 
Bliss  hath  invested  him, — 
Woes  that  molested  him, 
Trials  that  tested  him, 
Gloriously  ended! 

FAUST 

Why,  here  in  dust,  entice  me  with  your  spell, 

Ye  gentle,  powerful  sounds  of  Heaven? 

Peal  rather  there,  where  tender  natures  dwell. 

Your  messages  I  hear,  but  faith  has  not  been  given; 

The  dearest  child  of  Faith  is  Miracle. 

I  venture  not  to  soar  to  yonder  regions 

Whence  the  glad  tidings  hither  float; 

And  yet,  from  childhood  up  familiar  with  the  note, 

To  Life  it  now  renews  the  old  allegiance. 

Once  Heavenly  Love  sent  down  a  burning  kiss 

Upon  my  brow,  in  Sabbath  silence  holy; 

And,  filled  with  mystic  presage,  chimed  the  church-bell  slowly, 

And  prayer  dissolved  me  in  a  fervent  bliss. 

A  sweet,  uncomprehended  yearning 

55 


Drove  forth  my  feet  through  woods  and  meadows  free, 

And  while  a  thousand  tears  were  burning, 

I  felt  a  world  arise  for  me. 

These  chants,  to  youth  and  all  its  sports  appealing, 

Proclaimed  the  Spring's  rejoicing  holiday; 

And  Memory  holds  me  now,  with  childish  feeling, 

Back  from  the  last,  the  solemn  way. 

Sound  on,  ye  hymns  of  Heaven,  so  sweet  and  mild! 

My  tears  gush  forth:  the  Earth  takes  back  her  child! 

CHORUS  OF  DISCIPLES 

Has  He,  victoriously, 
Burst  from  the  vaulted 
Grave,  and  ail-gloriously 
Now  sits  exalted? 
Is  He,  in  glow  of  birth, 
Rapture  creative  near? 
Ah!  to  th,e  woe  of  earth 
Still  are  we  native  here. 
We,  his  aspiring 
Followers,  Him  we  miss; 
Weeping,  desiring, 
Master,  Thy  bliss! 

CHORUS  OF  ANGELS 

Christ  is  arisen, 
Out  of  Corruption's  womb: 
Burst  ye  the  prison, 
Break  from  your  gloom! 
Praising  and  pleading  him, 
Lovingly  needing  him, 
Brotherly  feeding  him, 
Preaching   and   speeding   him, 
Blessing,  succeeding  Him, 
Thus  is  the  Master  near,— 
Thus  is  He  here! 
56 


W 


II 

BEFORE  THE  CITY-GATE 
(Pedestrians  of  all  fynds  come  forth.) 

SEVERAL    APPRENTICES 

HY  do  you  go  that  way  ? 


OTHERS 

We're  for  the  Hunters'-lodge,  to-day. 

THE  FIRST 

We'll  saunter  to  the  Mill,  in  yonder  hollow. 

AN  APPRENTICE 

Go  to  the  River  Tavern,  I  should  say. 

SECOND  APPRENTICE 

But  then,  it's  not  a  pleasant  way. 


And  what  will  you? 


THE  OTHERS 


57 


A  THIRD 

As  goes  the  crowd,  I  follow. 

A   FOURTH 

Come  up  to  Burgdorf  ?    There  you'll  find  good  cheer, 
The  finest  lasses  and  the  best  of  beer, 
And  jolly  rows  and  squabbles,  trust  me! 

A  FIFTH 

You  swaggering  fellow,  is  your  hide 

A  third  time  itching  to  be  tried  ? 

I  won't  go  there,  your  jolly  rows  disgust  me! 

SERVANT-GIRL 

No,— no!    I'll  turn  and  go  to  town  again. 

ANOTHER 

We'll  surely  find  him  by  those  poplars  yonder. 

THE  FIRST 

That's  no  great  luck  for  me,  'tis  plain. 
You'll  have  him,  when  and  where  you  wander: 
His  partner  in  the  dance  you'll  be, — 
But  what  is  all  your  fun  to  me? 

THE  OTHER 

He's  surely  not  alone  to-day: 

He'll  be  with  Curly-head,  I  heard  him  say. 

A  STUDENT 

Deuce!  how  they  step,  the  buxom  wenches! 
Come,  Brother!  we  must  see  them  to  the  benches. 
A  strong,  old  beer,  a  pipe  that  stings  and  bites, 
A  girl  in  Sunday  clothes, — these  three  are  my  delights. 

58 


CITIZEN'S  DAUGHTER 

Just  see  those  handsome  fellows,  there! 
It's  really  shameful,  I  declare; — 
To  follow  servant-girls,  when  they 
Might  have  the  most  genteel  society  to-day! 

SECOND  STUDENT   (tO  the  First) 

Not  quite  so  fast!    Two  others  come  behind, — 
Those,  dressed  so  prettily  and  neatly. 
My  neighbor's  one  of  them,  I  find, 
A  girl  that  takes  my  heart,  completely. 
They  go  their  way  with  looks  demure, 
But  they'll  accept  us,  after  all,  I'm  sure. 

THE  FIRST 

No,  Brother!  not  for  me  their  formal  ways. 
Quick!  lest  our  game  escape  us  in  the  press: 
The  hand  that  wields  the  broom  on  Saturdays 
Will  best,  on  Sundays,  fondle  and  caress. 

CITIZEN 

He  suits  me  not  at  all,  our  new-made  Burgomaster! 

Since  he's  installed,  his  arrogance  grows  faster. 

How  has  he  helped  the  town,  I  say? 

Things  worsen, — what  improvement  names  he? 

Obedience,  more  than  ever,  claims  he, 

And  more  than  ever  we  must  pay! 

BEGGAR    (sings) 

Good  gentlemen  and  lovely  ladies, 
So  red  of  cheek  and  fine  of  dress, 
Behold,  how  needful  here  your  aid  is, 
And  see  and  lighten  my  distress! 
Let  me  not  vainly  sing  my  ditty; 
He's  only  glad  who  gives  away: 
59 


A  holiday,  that  shows  your  pity, 
Shall  be  for  me  a  harvest-day! 

ANOTHER  CITIZEN 

On  Sundays,  holidays,  there's  naught  I  take  delight  in, 

Like  gossiping  of  war,  and  war's  array, 

When  down  in  Turkey,  far  away, 

The  foreign  people  are  a-fighting. 

One  at  the  window  sits,  with  glass  and  friends, 

And  sees  all  sorts  of  ships  go  down  the  river  gliding: 

And  blesses  then,  as  home  he  wends 

At  night,  our  times  of  peace  abiding. 

THIRD   CITIZEN 

Yes,  Neighbor!  that's  my  notion,  too: 

Why,  let  them  break  their  heads,  let  loose  their  passions, 

And  mix  things  madly  through  and  through, 

So,  here,  we  keep  our  good  old  fashions ! 

OLD  WOMAN  (to  the  Citizen  s  Daughter) 

Dear  me,  how  fine!    So  handsome,  and  so  young! 
Who  wouldn't  lose  his  heart,  that  met  you? 
Don't  be  so  proud!    I'll  hold  my  tongue, 
And  what  you'd  like  I'll  undertake  to  get  you. 

CITIZEN'S  DAUGHTER 

Come,  Agatha!    I  shun  the  witch's  sight 
Before  folks,  lest  there  be  misgiving: 
Tls  true,  she  showed  me,  on  Saint  Andrew's  Night, 
My  future  sweetheart,  just  as  he  were  living. 

THE  OTHER 

She  showed  me  mine,  in  crystal  clear, 
With  several  wild  young  blades,  a  soldier-lover: 
I  seek  him  everywhere,  I  pry  and  peer, 
And  yet,  somehow,  his  face  I  can't  discover. 

60 


JFaust 

SOLDIERS 

Castles,  with  lofty 

Ramparts  and  towers, 

Maidens  disdainful 

In  Beauty's  array, 

Both  shall  be  ours! 

Bold  is  the  venture, 

Splendid  the  pay! 

Lads,  let  the  trumpets 

For  us  be  saing, — 

Calling  to  pleasure, 

Calling  to  ruin. 

Stormy  our  life  is; 

Such  is  its  boon! 

Maidens  and  castles 

Capitulate  soon. 

Bold  is  the  venture, 

Splendid  the  pay! 

And  the  soldiers  go  marching, 

Marching  away! 

FAUST  AND  WAGNER 
FAUST 

Released  from  ice  are  brook  and  river 
By  the  quickening  glance  of  the  gracious  Spring; 
The  colors  of  hope  to  the  valley  cling, 
And  weak  old  Winter  himself  must  shiver, 
Withdrawn  to  the  mountains,  a  crownless  king: 
Whence,  ever  retreating,  he  sends  again 
Impotent  showers  of  sleet  that  darkle 
In  belts  across  the  green  o'  the  plain. 
But  the  sun  will  permit  no  white  to  sparkle; 
Everywhere  form  in  development  moveth; 
He  will  brighten  the  world  with  the  tints  he  loveth, 
And,  lacking  blossoms,  blue,  yellow,  and  red, 

61 


He  takes  these  gaudy  people  instead. 

Turn  thee  about,  and  from  this  height 

Back  on  the  town  direct  thy  sight. 

Out  of  the  hollow,  gloomy  gate, 

The  motley  throngs  come  forth  elate: 

Each  will  the  joy  of  the  sunshine  hoard, 

To  honor  the  Day  of  the  Risen  Lord! 

They  feel,  themselves,  their  resurrection: 

From  the  low,  dark  rooms,  scarce  habitable; 

From  the  bonds  of  Work,  from  Trade's  restriction; 

From  the  pressing  weight  of  roof  and  gable; 

From  the  narrow,  crushing  streets  and  alleys; 

From  the  churches'  solemn  and  reverend  night, 

All  come  forth  to  the  cheerful  light. 

How  lively,  see!  the  multitude  sallies, 

Scattering  through  gardens  and  fields  remote, 

While  over  the  river,  that  broadly  dallies, 

Dances  so  many  a  festive  boat; 

And  overladen,  nigh  to  sinking, 

The  last  full  wherry  takes  the  stream. 

Yonder  afar,  from  the  hill-paths  blinking, 

Their  clothes  are  colors  that  softly  gleam. 

I  hear  the  noise  of  the  village,  even; 

Here  is  the  People's  proper  Heaven; 

Here  high  and  low  contented  see! 

Here  I  am  Man, — dare  man  to  be! 

WAGNER 

To  stroll  with  you,  Sir  Doctor,  flatters; 
Tis  honor,  profit,  unto  me. 
But  I,  alone,  would  shun  these  shallow  matters, 
Since  all  that's  coarse  provokes  my  enmity. 
This  fiddling,  shouting,  ten-pin  rolling 
I  hate,— these  noises  of  the  throng: 

62 


JFaust 

They  rave,  as  Satan  were  their  sports  controlling, 
And  call  it  mirth,  and  call  it  song! 

PEASANTS,  UNDER  THE  LINDEN-TREE 

(Dance  and  Song.) 

All  for  the  dance  the  shepherd  dressed, 
In  ribbons,  wreath,  and  gayest  vest 

Himself  with  care  arraying: 
Around  the  linden  lass  and  lad 
Already  footed  it  like  mad: 

Hurrah!  hurrah! 

Hurrah — tarara-la ! 

The  fiddle-bow  was  playing. 

He  broke  the  ranks,  no  whit  afraid, 
And  with  his  elbow  punched  a  maid, 

Who  stood,  the  dance  surveying: 
The  buxom  wench,  she  turned  and  said: 
"Now,  you  I  call  a  stupid-head!" 

Hurrah!  hurrah! 

Hurrah — tarara-la ! 

"Be  decent  while  you're  staying!" 

Then  round  the  circle  went  their  flight, 
They  danced  to  left,  they  danced  to  right: 

Their  kirtles  all  were  playing. 
They  first  grew  red,  and  then  grew  warm, 
And  rested,  panting,  arm  in  arm, — 

Hurrah!  hurrah! 

Hurrah — tarara-la ! 

And  hips  and  elbows  straying. 

Now,  don't  be  so  familiar  here! 
How  many  a  one  has  fooled  his  dear, 
Waylaying  and  betraying! 

63 


And  yet,  he  coaxed  her  soon  aside, 
And  round  the  linden  sounded  wide: 

Hurrah!  hurrah! 

Hurrah— tarara-la! 

And  the  fiddle-bow  was  playing. 

OLD  PEASANT 

Sir  Doctor,  it  is  good  of  you, 

That  thus  you  condescend,  to-day, 

Among  this  crowd  of  merry  folk, 

A  highly-learned  man,  to  stray. 

Then  also  take  the  finest  can, 

We  fill  with  fresh  wine,  for  your  sake: 

I  offer  it,  and  humbly  wish 

That  not  alone  your  thirst  is  slake,— 

That,  as  the  drops  below  its  brink, 

So  many  days  of  life  you  drink! 

FAUST 

I  take  the  cup  you  kindly  reach, 

With  thanks  and  health  to  all  and  each. 

(The  People  gather  in  a  circle  about  him.) 

OLD  PEASANT 

In  truth,  'tis  well  and  fitly  timed, 
That  now  our  day  of  joy  you  share, 
Who  heretofore,  in  evil  days, 
Gave  us  so  much  of  helping  care. 
Still  many  a  man  stands  living  here, 
Saved  by  your  father's  skilful  hand, 
That  snatched  him  from  the  fever's  rage 
And  stayed  the  plague  in  all  the  land. 
Then  also  you,  though  but  a  youth, 
Went  into  every  house  of  pain: 
Many  the  corpses  carried  forth, 
But  you  in  health  came  out  again. 


No  test  or  trial  you  evaded: 

A  Helping  God  the  helper  aided. 

ALL 

Health  to  the  man,  so  skilled  and  tried, 
That  for  our  help  he  long  may  abide! 

FAUST 

To  Him  above  bow  down,  my  friends, 
Who  teaches  help,  and  succor  sends! 

(He  goes  on  with  WAGNER.) 

WAGNER 

With  what  a  feeling,  thou  great  man,  must  thou 

Receive  the  people's  honest  veneration! 

How  lucky  he,  whose  gifts  his  station 

With  such  advantages  endow! 

Thou'rt  shown  to  all  the  younger  generation: 

Each  asks,  and  presses  near  to  gaze; 

The  fiddle  stops,  the  dance  delays. 

Thou  goest,  they  stand  in  rows  to  see, 

And  all  the  caps  are  lifted  high; 

A  little  more,  and  they  would  bend  the  knee 

As  if  the  Holy  Host  came  by. 

FAUST 

A  few  more  steps  ascend,  as  far  as  yonder  stone! — 
Here  from  our  wandering  will  we  rest  contented. 
Here,  lost  in  thought,  I've  lingered  oft  alone, 
When  foolish  fasts  and  prayers  my  life  tormented. 
Here,  rich  in  hope  and  firm  in  faith, 
With  tears,  wrung  hands  and  sighs,  I've  striven, 
The  end  of  that  far-spreading  death 
Entreating  from  the  Lord  of  Heaven! 
Now  like  contempt  the  crowd's  applauses  seem: 

65 


Couldst  thou  but  read,  within  mine  inmost  spirit, 
How  little  now  I  deem, 
That  sire  or  son  such  praises  merit! 
My  father's  was  a  sombre,  brooding  brain, 
Which  through  the  holy  spheres  of  Nature  groped  and  wan- 
dered, 

And  honestly,  in  his  own  fashion,  pondered 
With  labor  whimsical,  and  pain: 
Who,  in  his  dusky  work-shop  bending, 
With  proved  adepts  in  company, 
Made,  from  his  recipes  unending, 
Opposing  substances  agree. 
There  was  a  Lion  red,  a  wooer  daring, 
Within  the  Lily's  tepid  bath  espoused, 
And  both,  tormented  then  by  flame  unsparing, 
By  turns  in  either  bridal  chamber  housed. 
If  then  appeared,  with  colors  splendid, 
The  young  Queen  in  her  crystal  shell, 
This  was  the  medicine — the  patients'  woes  soon  ended, 
And  none  demanded:  who  got  well? 
Thus  we,  our  hellish  boluses  compounding, 
Among  these  vales  and  hills  surrounding, 
Worse  than  the  pestilence,  have  passed. 
Thousands  were  done  to  death  from  poison  of  my  giving; 
And  I  must  hear,  by  all  the  living, 
The  shameless  murderers  praised  at  last! 

WAGNER 

Why,  therefore,  yield  to  such  depression? 
A  good  man  does  his  honest  share 
In  exercising,  with  the  strictest  care, 
The  art  bequeathed  to  his  possession! 
Dost  thou  thy  father  honor,  as  a  youth? 
Then  may  his  teaching  cheerfully  impel  thee: 
Dost  thou,  as  man,  increase  the  stores  of  truth  ? 
Then  may  thine  own  son  afterwards  excel  thee. 

66 


FAUST 

0  happy  he,  who  still  renews 

The  hope,  from  Error's  deeps  to  rise  forever! 

That  which  one  does  not  know,  one  needs  to  use; 

And  what  one  knows,  one  uses  never. 

But  let  us  not,  by  such  despondence,  so 

The  fortune  of  this  hour  embitter! 

Mark  how,  beneath  the  evening  sunlight's  glow, 

The  green-embosomed  houses  glitter! 

The  glow  retreats,  done  is  the  day  of  toil; 

It  yonder  hastes,  new  fields  of  life  exploring; 

Ah,  that  no  wing  can  lift  me  from  the  soil, 

Upon  its  track  to  follow,  follow  soaring! 

Then  would  I  see  eternal  Evening  gild 

The  silent  world  beneath  me  glowing, 

On  fire  each  mountain-peak,  with  peace  each  valley  filled, 

The  silver  brook  to  golden  rivers  flowing. 

The  mountain-chain,  with  all  its  gorges  deep, 

Would  then  no  more  impede  my  godlike  motion; 

And  now  before  mine  eyes  expands  the  ocean 

With  all  its  bays,  in  shining  sleep! 

Yet,  finally,  the  weary  god  is  sinking; 

The  new-born  impulse  fires  my  mind, — 

1  hasten  on,  his  beams  eternal  drinking, 
The  Day  before  me  and  the  Night  behind, 

Above  me  heaven  unfurled,  the  floor  of  waves  beneath  me, — 

A  glorious  dream!  though  now  the  glories  fade. 

Alas!  the  wings  that  lift  the  mind  no  aid 

Of  wings  to  lift  the  body  can  bequeath  me. 

Yet  in  each  soul  is  born  the  pleasure 

Of  yearning  onward,  upward  and  away, 

When  o'er  our  heads,  lost  in  the  vaulted  azure, 

The  lark  sends  down  his  flickering  lay, — 

When  over  crags  and  piny  highlands 

The  poising  eagle  slowly  soars, 

67 


And  over  plains  and  lakes  and  islands 
The  crane  sails  by  to  other  shores. 


WAGNER 


I've  had,  myself,  at  times,  some  odd  caprices, 

But  never  yet  such  impulse  felt,  as  this  is. 

One  soon  fatigues,  on  woods  and  fields  to  look, 

Nor  would  I  beg  the  bird  his  wing  to  spare  us: 

How  otherwise  the  mental  raptures  bear  us 

From  page  to  page,  from  book  to  book! 

Then  winter  nights  take  loveliness  untold, 

As  warmer  life  in  every  limb  had  crowned  you; 

And  when  your  hands  unroll  some  parchment  rare  and  old, 

All  Heaven  descends,  and  opens  bright  around  you! 

FAUST 

One  impulse  art  thou  conscious  of,  at  best; 

O,  never  seek  to  know  the  other! 

Two  souls,  alas!  reside  within  my  breast, 

And  each  withdraws  from,  and  repels,  its  brother. 

One  with  tenacious  organs  holds  in  love 

And  clinging  lust  the  world  in  its  embraces; 

The  other  strongly  sweeps,  this  dust  above, 

Into  the  high  ancestral  spaces. 

If  there  be  airy  spirits  near, 

Twixt  Heaven  and  Earth  on  potent  errands  fleeing, 

Let  them  drop  down  the  golden  atmosphere, 

And  bear  me  forth  to  new  and  varied  being! 

Yea,  if  a  magic  mantle  once  were  mine, 

To  waft  me  o'er  the  world  at  pleasure, 

I  would  not  for  the  costliest  stores  of  treasure — 

Not  for  a  monarch's  robe — the  gift  resign. 

WAGNER 

Invoke  not  thus  the  well-known  throng, 
Which  through  the  firmament  diffused  is  faring, 

68 


And  danger  thousand-fold,  our  race  to  wrong, 

In  every  quarter  is  preparing. 

Swift  from  the  North  the  spirit-fangs  so  sharp 

Sweep  down,  and  with  their  barbed  points  assail  you; 

Then  from  the  East  they  come,  to  dry  and  warp 

Your  lungs,  till  breath  and  being  fail  you: 

If  from  the  Desert  sendeth  them  the  South, 

With  fire  on  fire  your  throbbing  forehead  crowning, 

The  West  leads  on  a  host,  to  cure  the  drouth 

Only  when  meadow,  field,  and  you  are  drowning. 

They  gladly  hearken,  prompt  for  injury, — 

Gladly  obey,  because  they  gladly  cheat  us; 

From  Heaven  they  represent  themselves  to  be, 

And  lisp  like  angels,  when  with  lies  they  meet  us. 

But,  let  us  go!  'Tis  gray  and  dusky  all: 

The  air  is  cold,  the  vapors  fall. 

At  night,  one  learns  his  house  to  prize: — 

Why  stand  you  thus,  with  such  astonished  eyes  ? 

What,  in  the  twilight,  can  your  mind  so  trouble? 

FAUST 

Seest  thou  the  black  dog  coursing  there,  through  corn  and 
stubble  ? 

WAGNER 

Long  since:  yet  deemed  him  not  important  in  the  least. 

FAUST 
Inspect  him  close:  for  what  tak'st  thou  the  beast? 

WAGNER 

Why,  for  a  poodle  who  has  lost  his  master, 
And  scents  about,  his  track  to  find. 

FAUST 

Seest  thou  the  spiral  circles,  narrowing  faster, 
Which  he,  approaching,  round  us  seems  to  wind  ? 

69 


A  streaming  trail  of  fire,  if  I  see  rightly, 
Follows  his  path  of  mystery. 

WAGNER 

It  may  be  that  your  eyes  deceive  you  slightly; 
Naught  but  a  plain  black  poodle  do  I  see. 

FAUST 

It  seems  to  me  that  with  enchanted  cunning 
He  snares  our  feet,  some  future  chain  to  bind. 

WAGNER 

I  see  him  timidly,  in  doubt,  around  us  running, 

Since,  in  his  master's  stead,  two  strangers  doth  he  find. 

FAUST 
The  circle  narrows:  he  is  near! 

WAGNER 

A  dog  thou  seest,  and  not  a  phantom,  here! 
Behold  him  stop — upon  his  belly  crawl — 
His  tail  set  wagging:  canine  habits,  all! 

FAUST 
Come,  follow  us!    Come  here,  at  least! 

WAGNER 

Tis  the  absurdest,  drollest  beast. 
Stand  still,  and  you  will  see  him  wait; 
Address  him,  and  he  gambols  straight; 
If  something's  lost,  he'll  quickly  bring  it, — 
Your  cane,  if  in  the  stream  you  fling  it. 

FAUST 

No  doubt  you're  right:  no  trace  of  mind,  I  own, 
Is  in  the  beast:  I  see  but  drill,  alone. 

70 


WAGNER 

The  dog,  when  he's  well  educated, 

Is  by  the  wisest  tolerated. 

Yes,  he  deserves  your  favor  thoroughly, — 

The  clever  scholar  of  the  students,  he! 

{They  pass  in  the  city-gate.) 


Ill 

THE  STUDY 

FAUST 

(Entering,  with  the  poodle.) 

EHIND  me,  field  and  meadow  sleeping, 
k  I  leave  in  deep,  prophetic  night, 
Within  whose  dread  and  holy  keeping 


The  better  soul  awakes  to  light. 
The  wild  desires  no  longer  win  us, 
The  deeds  of  passion  cease  to  chain ; 
The  love  of  Man  revives  within  us, 
The  love  of  God  revives  again. 

Be  still,  thou  poodle;  make  not  such  racket  and  riot! 
Why  at  the  threshold  wilt  snuffing  be  ? 
Behind  the  stove  repose  thee  in  quiet! 
My  softest  cushion  I  give  to  thee. 
As  thou,  up  yonder,  with  running  and  leaping 
Amused  us  hast,  on  the  mountain's  crest, 

72 


So  now  I  take  thee  into  my  keeping, 
A  welcome,  but  also  a  silent,  guest. 

Ah,  when,  within  our  narrow  chamber 
The  hmp  with  friendly  lustre  glows, 
Flames  in  the  breast  each  faded  ember, 
And  in  the  heart,  itself  that  knows. 
Then  Hope  again  lends  sweet  assistance, 
And  Reason  then  resumes  her  speech: 
One  yearns,  the  rivers  of  existence, 
The  very  founts  of  Life,  to  reach. 

Snarl  not,  poodle!    To  the  sound  that  rises, 

The  sacred  tones  that  my  soul  embrace, 

This  bestial  noise  is  out  of  place. 

We  are  used  to  see,  that  Man  despises 

What  he  never  comprehends, 

And  the  Good  and  the  Beautiful  vilipends, 

Finding  them  often  hard  to  measure: 

Will  the  dog,  like  man,  snarl  his  displeasure? 

But  ah!  I  feel,  though  will  thereto  be  stronger, 

Contentment  flows  from  out  my  breast  no  longer. 

Why  must  the  stream  so  soon  run  dry  and  fail  us, 

And  burning  thirst  again  assail  us? 

Therein  I've  borne  so  much  probation! 

And  yet,  this  want  may  be  supplied  us; 

We  call  the  Supernatural  to  guide  us; 

We  pine  and  thirst  for  Revelation, 

Which  nowhere  worthier  is,  more  nobly  sent, 

Than  here,  in  our  New  Testament. 

I  feel  impelled,  its  meaning  to  determine, — 

With  honest  purpose,  once  for  all, 

The  hallowed  Original 

To  change  to  my  beloved  German. 

(He  opens  a  volume,  and  commences.) 
73 


Tis  written:  "In  the  Beginning  was  the  Word." 

Here  am  I  balked:  who,  now  can  help  afford? 

The  Word?— impossible  so  high  to  rate  it; 

And  otherwise  must  I  translate  it, 

If  by  the  Spirit  I  am  truly  taught. 

Then  thus:  "In  the  Beginning  was  the  Thought. 

This  first  line  let  me  weigh  completely, 

Lest  my  impatient  pen  proceed  too  fleetly. 

Is  it  the  Thought  which  works,  creates,  indeed? 

"In  the  Beginning  was  the  Power,"  I  read. 

Yet,  as  I  write,  a  warning  is  suggested, 

That  I  the  sense  may  not  have  fairly  tested. 

The  Spirit  aids  me:  now  I  see  the  light! 

"In  the  Beginning  was  the  Act,"  I  write. 

If  I  must  share  my  chamber  with  thcc, 

Poodle,  stop  that  howling,  prithee! 

Cease  to  bark  and  bellow! 

Such  a  noisy,  disturbing  fellow 

I'll  no  longer  suffer  near  me. 

One  of  us,  dost  hear  me! 

Must  leave,  I  fear  me. 

No  longer  guest-right  I  bestow; 

The  door  is  open,  art  free  to  go. 

But  what  do  I  see  in  the  creature? 

Is  that  in  the  course  of  nature  ? 

Is't  actual  fact?  or  Fancy's  shows? 

How  long  and  broad  my  poodle  grows! 

He  rises  mightily: 

A  canine  form  that  cannot  be! 

What  a  spectre  I've  harbored  thus! 

He  resembles  a  hippopotamus, 

With  fiery  eyes,  teeth  terrible  to  see: 

O,  now  am  I  sure  of  thec! 

For  all  of  thy  half -hellish  brood 

The  Key  of  Solomon  is  good. 

74 


SPIRITS  (in  the  corridor) 

Some  one,  within,  is  caught! 
Stay  without,  follow  him  not! 
Like  the  fox  in  a  snare, 
Quakes  the  old  hell-lynx  there. 
Take  heed — look  about! 
Back  and  forth  hover, 
Under  and  over, 
And  he'll  work  himself  out. 
If  your  aid  avail  him, 
Let  it  not  fail  him; 
For  he,  without  measure, 
Has  wrought  for  our  pleasure. 

FAUST 

First,  to  encounter  the  beast, 

The  Words  of  the  Four  be  addressed: 

Salamander,  shine  glorious! 

Wave,  Undine,  as  bidden! 

Sylph,  be  thou  hidden! 

Gnome,  be  laborious! 

Who  knows  not  their  sense 
(These  elements), — 
Their  properties 
And  power  not  sees, — 
No  mastery  he  inherits 
Over  the  Spirits. 

Vanish  in  flaming  ether, 

Salamander! 

Flow  foamingly  together, 

Undine! 

Shine  in  meteor-sheen, 

Sylph! 

75 


jfaust 

Bring  help  to  hearth  and  shelf, 

Incubus!    Incubus! 

Step  forward,  and  finish  thus! 

Of  the  Four,  no  feature 

Lurks  in  the  creature. 

Quiet  he  lies,  and  grins  disdain: 

Not  yet,  it  seems,  have  I  given  him  pain. 

Now,  to  undisguise  thee, 

Hear  me  exorcise  thee! 

Art  thou,  my  gay  one, 

Hell's  fugitive  stray-one? 

The  sign  witness  now, 

Before  which  they  bow, 

The  cohorts  of  Hell! 

With  hair  all  bristling,  it  begins  to  swell. 

Base  Being,  nearest  thou? 
Knowest  and  fearest  thou 
The  One,  unoriginate, 
Named  inexpressibly, 
Through  all  Heaven  impermeate, 
Pierced  irredressibly ! 

Behind  the  stove  still  banned, 
See  it,  an  elephant,  expand! 
It  fills  the  space  entire, 
Mist-like  melting,  ever  faster. 
Tis  enough:  ascend  no  higher, — 
Lay  thyself  at  the  feet  of  the  Master ! 
Thou  seest,  not  vain  the  threats  I  bring  thee: 
With  holy  fire  I'll  scorch  and  sting  thee! 
Wait  not  to  know 
The  threefold  dazzling  glow! 
Wait  not  to  know 

The  strongest  art  within  my  hands! 
76 


MEPHISTOPHELES 


(while  the  vapor  is  dissipating,  steps  forth  from  behind  the 

stove,  in  the  costume  of  a  Travelling  Scholar?) 
Why  such  a  noise?    What  are  my  lord's  commands? 

FAUST 

This  was  the  poodle's  real  core, 

A  travelling  scholar,  then?    The  casus  is  diverting. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  learned  gentleman  I  bow  before: 
You've  made  me  roundly  sweat,  that's  certain! 

FAUST 
What  is  thy  name? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  question  small,  it  seems, 

For  one  whose  mind  the  Word  so  much  despises; 
Who,  scorning  all  external  gleams, 
The  depths  of  being  only  prizes. 

FAUST 

With  all  you  gentlemen,  the  name's  a  test, 
Whereby  the  nature  usually  is  expressed. 
Clearly  the  latter  it  implies 

In  names  like  Beelzebub,  Destroyer,  Father  of  Lies. 
Who  art  thou,  then? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Part  of  that  Power,  not  understood. 
Which  always  wills  the  Bad,  and  always  works  the  Good. 

FAUST 

What  hidden  sense  in  this  enigma  lies? 

77 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  am  the  Spirit  that  Denies! 
And  justly  so:  for  all  things,  from  the  Void 
Called  forth,  deserve  to  be  destroyed: 
Twere  better,  then,  were  naught  created. 
Thus,  all  which  you  as  Sin  have  rated,— 
Destruction, — aught  with  Evil  blent, — 
That  is  my  proper  element. 

FAUST 
Thou  nam'st  thyself  a  part,  yet  show'st  complete  to  me? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  modest  truth  I  speak  to  thee. 

If  Man,  that  microcosmic  fool,  can  see 

Himself  a  whole  so  frequently, 

Part  of  the  Part  am  I,  once  All,  in  primal  Night, — 

Part  of  the  Darkness  which  brought  forth  the  Light, 

The  haughty  Light,  which  now  disputes  the  space, 

And  claims  of  Mother  Night  her  ancient  place. 

And  yet,  the  struggle  fails ;  since  Light,  howe'er  it  weaves, 

Still,  fettered,  unto  bodies  cleaves: 

It  flows  from  bodies,  bodies  beautifies; 

By  bodies  is  its  course  impeded; 

And  so,  but  little  time  is  needed, 

I  hope,  ere,  as  the  bodies  die,  it  dies! 

FAUST 

I  see  the  plan  thou  art  pursuing: 
Thou  canst  not  compass  general  ruin, 
And  hast  on  smaller  scale  begun. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  truly  'tis  not  much,  when  all  is  done. 
That  which  to  Naught  is  in  resistance  set, — 

78 


The  Something  of  this  clumsy  world, — has  yet, 

With  all  that  I  have  undertaken, 

Not  been  by  me  disturbed  or  shaken: 

From  earthquake,  tempest,  wave,  volcano's  brand, 

Back  into  quiet  settle  sea  and  land ! 

And  that  damned  stuff,  the  bestial,  human  brood,- 

What  use,  in  having  that  to  play  with  ? 

How  many  have  I  made  away  with! 

And  ever  circulates  a  newer,  fresher  blood. 

It  makes  me  furious,  such  things  beholding: 

From  Water,  Earth,  and  Air  unfolding, 

A  thousand  germs  break  forth  and  grow, 

In  dry,  and  wet,  and  warm,  and  chilly; 

And  had  I  not  the  Flame  reserved,  why,  really, 

There's  nothing  special  of  my  own  to  show! 

FAUST 

So,  to  the  actively  eternal 
Creative  force,  in  cold  disdain 
You  now  oppose  the  fist  infernal, 
Whose  wicked  clench  is  all  in  vain! 
Some  other  labor  seek  thou  rather, 
Queer  Son  of  Chaos,  to  begin! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Well,  we'll  consider:  thou  canst  gather 
My  views,  when  next  I  venture  in. 
Might  I,  perhaps,  depart  at  present? 

FAUST 

Why  thou  shouldst  ask,  I  don't  perceive. 
Though  our  acquaintance  is  so  recent, 
For  further  visits  thou  hast  leave. 
The  window's  here,  the  door  is  yonder; 
A  chimney,  also,  you  behold. 

79 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  must  confess  that  forth  I  may  not  wander, 
My  steps  by  one  slight  obstacle  controlled,— 
The  wizard's-foot,  that  on  your  threshold  made  is. 

FAUST 

The  pentagram  prohibits  thee? 
Why,  tell  me  now,  thou  Son  of  Hades, 
If  that  prevents,  how  cam'st  thou  in  to  me  ? 
Could  such  a  spirit  be  so  cheated  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Inspect  the  thing:  the  drawing's  not  completed. 
The  outer  angle,  you  may  sec, 
Is  open  left— the  lines  don't  fit  it. 

FAUST 

Well,— Chance,  this  time,  has  fairly  hit  it! 
And  thus,  thou'rt  prisoner  to  me  ? 
It  seems  the  business  has  succeeded. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  poodle  naught  remarked,  as  after  thee  he  speeded; 
But  other  aspects  now  obtain: 
The  Devil  can't  get  out  again. 

FAUST 
Try,  then,  the  open  window-pane! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

For  Devils  and  for  spectres  this  is  law: 
Where  they  have  entered  in,  there  also  they  withdraw. 
The  first  is  free  to  us;  we're  governed  by  the  second. 

80 


FAUST 

In  Hell  itself,  then,  laws  are  reckoned? 

That's  well!    So  might  a  compact  be 

Made  with  you  gentlemen — and  binding, — surely? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

All  that  is  promised  shall  delight  thee  purely; 

No  skinflint  bargain  shalt  thou  see. 

But  this  is  not  of  swift  conclusion; 

We'll  talk  about  the  matter  soon. 

And  now,  I  do  entreat  this  boon — 

Leave  to  withdraw  from  my  intrusion. 

FAUST 

One  moment  more  I  ask  thee  to  remain, 
Some  pleasant  news,  at  least,  to  tell  me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Release  me,  now!    I  soon  shall  come  again; 
Then  thou,  at  will,  mayst  question  and  compel  me. 

FAUST 

I  have  not  snares  around  thee  cast; 

Thyself  hast  led  thyself  into  the  meshes. 

Who  traps  the  Devil,  hold  him  fast! 

Not  soon  a  second  time  he'll  catch  a  prey  so  precious. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

An't  please  thee,  also  I'm  content  to  stay, 
And  serve  thee  in  a  social  station ; 
But  stipulating,  that  I  may 
With  arts  of  mine  afford  thee  recreation. 

FAUST 

Thereto  I  willingly  agree, 
If  the  diversion  pleasant  be. 

81 


JFaust 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

My  friend,  thou'lt  win,  past  all  pretences, 
More  in  this  hour  to  soothe  thy  senses, 
Than  in  the  year's  monotony. 
That  which  the  dainty  spirits  sing  thec, 
The  lovely  pictures  they  shall  bring  thee, 
Arc  more  than  magic's  empty  show. 
Thy  scent  will  be  to  bliss  invited; 
Thy  palate  then  with  taste  delighted, 
Thy  nerves  of  touch  ecstatic  glow! 
All  unprepared,  the  charm  I  spin: 
We're  here  together,  so  begin! 

SPIRITS 

Vanish,  ye  darking 
Arches  above  him! 
Loveliest  weather, 
Born  of  blue  ether, 
Break  from  the  sky ! 
O  that  the  darkling 
Clouds  had  departed! 
Starlight  is  sparkling, 
Tranquiller-hearted 
Suns  are  on  high. 
Heaven's  own  children 
In  beauty  bewildering, 
Waveringly  bending, 
Pass  as  they  hover; 
Longing  unending 
Follows  them  over. 
They,  with  their  glowing 
Garments,  out-flowing, 
Cover,  in  going, 
Landscape  and  bower, 
82 


JFau0t 

Where,  in  seclusion, 
Lovers  are  plighted, 
Lost  in  illusion. 
Bower  on  bower! 
Tendrils  unblighted ! 
Lo!  in  a  shower 
Grapes  that  o'ercluster 
Gush  into  must,  or 
Flow  into  rivers 
Of  foaming  and  flashing 
Wine,  that  is  dashing 
Gems,  as  it  boundeth 
Down  the  high  places, 
And  spreading,  surroundeth 
With  crystalline  spaces, 
In  happy  embraces, 
Blossoming  forelands, 
Emerald  shore-lands! 
And  the  winged  races 
Drink,  and  fly  onward — 
Fly  ever  sunward 
To  the  enticing 
Islands,  that  flatter, 
Dipping  and  rising 
Light  on  the  water! 
Hark,  the  inspiring 
Sound  of  their  quiring! 
See,  the  entrancing 
Whirl  of  their  dancing! 
All  in  the  air  are 
Freer  and  fairer. 
Some  of  them  scaling 
Boldly  the  highlands, 
Others  are  sailing, 
Circling  the  islands; 

83 


jfaust 

Others  are  flying; 
Life-ward  all  hieing, — 
All  for  the  distant 
Star  of  existent 
Rapture  and  Love! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

He  sleeps!    Enough,  ye  fays!  your  airy  number 

Have  sung  him  truly  into  slumber: 

For  this  performance  I  your  debtor  prove. — 

Not  yet  art  thou  the  man,  to  catch  the  Fiend  and  hold  him!- 

With  fairest  images  of  dreams  infold  him, 

Plunge  him  in  seas  of  sweet  untruth ! 

Yet,  for  the  threshold's  magic  which  controlled  him, 

The  Devil  needs  a  rat's  quick  tooth. 

I  use  no  lengthened  invocation: 

Here  rustles  one  that  soon  will  work  my  liberation. 

The  lord  of  rats  and  eke  of  mice, 

Of  flies  and  bed-bugs,  frogs  and  lice, 

Summons  thee  hither  to  the  door-sill, 

To  gnaw  it  where,  with  just  a  morsel 

Of  oil,  he  paints  the  spot  for  thee: — 

There  com'st  thou,  hopping  on  to  me! 

To  work,  at  once!    The  point  which  made  me  craven 

Is  forward,  on  the  ledge,  engraven. 

Another  bite  makes  free  the  door: 

So,  dream  thy  dreams,  O  Faust,  until  we  meet  once  more! 

FAUST  (awaking) 
Am  I  again  so  foully  cheated? 
Remains  there  naught  of  lofty  spirit-sway, 
But  that  a  dream  the  Devil  counterfeited, 
And  that  a  poodle  ran  away? 


IV 

THE  STUDY 

FAUST     MEPHISTOPHELES 
FAUST 

AECNOCK?    Come  in!    Again  my  quiet  broken? 
, 
MEPHISTOPHELES 

Tis  I! 


Come  in! 


Come  in,  then! 


FAUST 
MEPHISTOPHELES 

Thrice  must  the  words  be  spoken. 
FAUST 

MEPHISTOPHELES 


Thus  thou  pleasest  me. 
I  hope  we'll  suit  each  other  well; 
For  now,  thy  vapors  to  dispel, 

85 


jfauat 

I  come,  a  squire  of  high  degree, 

In  scarlet  coat,  with  golden  trimming, 

A  cloak  in  silken  lustre  swimming, 

A  tall  cock's-feather  in  my  hat, 

A  long,  sharp  sword  for  show  or  quarrel, — 

And  I  advise  thee,  brief  and  flat, 

To  don  the  self-same  gay  apparel, 

That,  from  this  den  released,  and  free, 

Life  be  at  last  revealed  to  thee! 

FAUST 

This  life  of  earth,  whatever  my  attire, 
Would  pain  me  in  its  wonted  fashion. 
Too  old  am  I  to  play  with  passion; 
Too  young,  to  be  without  desire. 
What  from  the  world  have  I  to  gain? 
Thou  shalt  abstain— renounce— refrain! 
Such  is  the  everlasting  song 
That  in  the  ears  of  all  men  rings, — 
That  unrelieved,  our  whole  life  long, 
Each  hour,  in  passing,  hoarsely  sings. 
In  very  terror  I  at  morn  awake, 
Upon  the  verge  of  bitter  weeping, 
To  see  the  day  of  disappointment  break, 
To  no  one  hope  of  mine — not  one — its  promise  keeping 
That  even  each  joy's  presentiment 
With  wilful  cavil  would  diminish, 
With  grinning  masks  of  life  prevent 
My  mind  its  fairest  work  to  finish! 
Then,  too,  when  night  descends,  how  anxiously 
Upon  my  couch  of  sleep  I  lay  me: 
There,  also,  comes  no  rest  to  me, 
But  some  wild  dream  is  sent  to  fray  me. 
The  God  that  in  my  breast  is  owned 
Can  deeply  stir  the  inner  sources; 
The  God,  above  my  powers  enthroned, 

86 


Jfaugt 

He  cannot  change  external  forces. 

So,  by  the  burden  of  my  days  oppressed, 

Death  is  desired,  and  Life  a  thing  unblest! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  yet  is  never  Death  a  wholly  welcome  guest. 

FAUST 

O  fortunate,  for  whom,  when  victory  glances, 
The  bloody  laurels  on  the  brow  he  bindeth! 
Whom,  after  rapid,  maddening  dances, 
In  clasping  maiden-arms  he  findeth! 
O  would  that  I,  before  that  spirit-power, 
Ravished  and  rapt  from  life,  had  sunken! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  yet,  by  some  one,  in  that  nightly  hour, 
A  certain  liquid  was  not  drunken. 

FAUST 
Eavesdropping,  ha!  thy  pleasure  seems  to  be. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Omniscient  am  I  not;  yet  much  is  known  to  me. 

FAUST 

Though  some  familiar  tone,  retrieving 
My  thoughts  from  torment,  led  me  on, 
And  sweet,  clear  echoes  came,  deceiving 
A  faith  bequeathed  from  Childhood's  dawn, 
Yet  now  I  curse  whatever  entices 
And  snares  the  soul  with  visions  vain; 
With  dazzling  cheats  and  dear  devices 
Confines  it  in  this  cave  of  pain! 
Cursed  be,  at  once,  the  high  ambition 
Wherewith  the  mind  itself  deludes! 

87 


jfaust 

Cursed  be  the  glare  of  apparition 

That  on  the  finer  sense  intrudes ! 

Cursed  be  the  lying  dream's  impression 

Of  name,  and  fame,  and  laurelled  brow! 

Cursed,  all  that  flatters  as  possession, 

As  wife  and  child,  as  knave  and  plow! 

Cursed  Mammon  be,  when  he  with  treasures 

To  restless  action  spurs  our  fate! 

Cursed  when,  for  soft,  indulgent  leisures, 

He  lays  for  us  the  pillows  straight! 

Cursed  be  the  vine's  transcendent  nectar, — 

The  highest  favor  Love  lets  fall ! 

Cursed,  also,  Hope! — cursed  Faith,  the  spectre! 

And  cursed  be  Patience  most  of  all! 

CHORUS  OF  SPIRITS  (invisible) 

Woe!  woe! 

Thou  hast  it  destroyed, 

The  beautiful  world, 

With  powerful  fist: 

In  ruin  'tis  hurled, 

By  the  blow  of  a  demigod  shattered ! 

The  scattered 

Fragments  into  the  Void  we  carry, 

Deploring 

The  beauty  perished  beyond  restoring. 

Mightier 

For  the  children  of  men, 

Brightlier 

Build  it  again, 

In  thine  own  bosom  build  it  anew! 

Bid  the  new  career 

Commence, 

With  clearer  sense, 

And  the  new  songs  of  cheer 

Be  sung  thereto! 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

These  are  the  small  dependants 

Who  give  me  attendance. 

Hear  them,  to  deeds  and  passion 

Counsel  in  shrewd  old-fashion! 

Into  the  world  of  strife, 

Out  of  this  lonely  life 

That  of  senses  and  sap  has  betrayed  thee, 

They  would  persuade  thee. 

This  nursing  of  the  pain  forego  thee, 

That,  like  a  vulture,  feeds  upon  thy  breast! 

The  worst  society  thou  find'st  will  show  thee 

Thou  art  a  man  among  the  rest. 

But  'tis  not  meant  to  thrust 

Thee  into  the  mob  thou  hatest! 

I  am  not  one  of  the  greatest, 

Yet,  wilt  thou  to  me  entrust 

Thy  steps  through  life,  I'll  guide  thee, — 

Will  willingly  walk  beside  thee, — 

Will  serve  thee  at  once  and  forever 

With  best  endeavor, 

And,  if  thou  art  satisfied, 

Will  as  servant,  slave,  with  thee  abide. 

FAUST 
And  what  shall  be  my  counter-service  therefor? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  time  is  long:  thou  need'st  not  now  insist. 

FAUST 

No — no!    The  Devil  is  an  egotist, 

And  is  not  apt,  without  a  why  or  wherefore, 

"For  God's  sake,"  others  to  assist. 

Speak  thy  conditions  plain  and  clear! 

With  such  a  servant  danger  comes,  I  fear. 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

Here,  an  unwearied  slave,  I'll  wear  thy  tether, 
And  to  thine  every  nod  obedient  be: 
When  There  again  we  come  together, 
Then  shalt  thou  do  the  same  for  me. 


FAUST 


The  There  my  scruples  naught  increases. 

When  thou  hast  dashed  this  world  to  pieces, 

The  other,  then,  its  place  may  fill. 

Here,  on  this  earth,  my  pleasures  have  their  sources; 

Yon  sun  beholds  my  sorrows  in  his  courses; 

And  when  from  these  my  life  itself  divorces, 

Let  happen  all  that  can  or  will! 

I'll  hear  no  more:  'tis  vain  to  ponder 

If  there  we  cherish  love  or  hate, 

Or,  in  the  spheres  we  dream  of  yonder, 

A  High  and  Low  our  souls  await. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  this  sense,  even,  canst  thou  venture. 
Come,  bind  thyself  by  prompt  indenture, 
And  thou  mine  arts  with  joy  shalt  see: 
What  no  man  ever  saw,  I'll  give  to  thee. 

FAUST 

Canst  thou,  poor  Devil,  give  me  whatsoever  ? 
When  was  a  human  soul,  in  its  supreme  endeavor, 
E'er  understood  by  such  as  thou? 
Yet,  hast  thou  food  which  never  satiates,  now, — 
The  restless,  ruddy  gold  hast  thou, 
That  runs,  quicksilver-like,  one's  fingers  through, — 
A  game  whose  winnings  no  man  ever  knew, — 
A  maid  that,  even  from  my  breast, 
Beckons  my  neighbor  with  her  wanton  glances, 

90 


Jaust 

And  Honor's  godlike  zest, 

The  meteor  that  a  moment  dances, — 

Show  me  the  fruits  that,  ere  they're  gathered,  rot, 

And  trees  that  daily  with  new  leafage  clothe  them! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Such  a  demand  alarms  me  not: 
Such  treasures  have  I,  and  can  show  them. 
But  still  the  time  may  reach  us,  good  my  friend, 
When  peace  we  crave  and  more  luxurious  diet. 

FAUST 

When  on  an  idler's  bed  I  stretch  myself  in  quiet, 

There  let,  at  once,  my  record  end! 

Canst  thou  with  lying  flattery  rule  me, 

Until,  self-pleased,  myself  I  see, — 

Canst  thou  with  rich  enjoyment  fool  me, 

Let  that  day  be  the  last  for  me! 

The  bet  I  offer. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Done! 

FAUST 

And  heartily! 

When  thus  I  hail  the  Moment  flying: 
"Ah,  still  delay— thou  art  so  fair!" 
Then  bind  me  in  thy  bonds  undying, 
My  final  ruin  then  declare! 
Then  let  the  death-bell  chime  the  token, 
Then  art  thou  from  thy  service  free! 
The  clock  may  stop,  the  hand  be  broken, 
Then  Time  be  finished  unto  me! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Consider  well:  my  memory  good  is  rated. 


jFaust 

FAUST 

Thou  hast  a  perfect  right  thereto. 

My  powers  I  have  not  rashly  estimated: 

A  slave  am  I,  whate'er  I  do — 

If  thine,  or  whose  ?  'tis  needless  to  debate  it. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Then  at  the  Doctors'-banquet  I,  to-day, 

Will  as  a  servant  wait  behind  thee. 

But  one  thing  more!    Beyond  all  risk  to  bind  thce, 

Give  me  a  line  or  two,  I  pray. 

FAUST 

Demand's!  thou,  Pedant,  too,  a  document? 

Hast  never  known  a  man,  nor  proved  his  word's  intent  ? 

Is't  not  enough,  that  what  I  speak  to-day 

Shall  stand,  with  all  my  future  days  agreeing? 

In  all  its  tides  sweeps  not  the  world  away, 

And  shall  a  promise  bind  my  being? 

Yet  this  delusion  in  our  hearts  we  bear: 

Who  would  himself  therefrom  deliver? 

Blest  he,  whose  bosom  Truth  makes  pure  and  fair! 

No  sacrifice  shall  he  repent  of  ever. 

Nathless  a  parchment,  writ  and  stamped  with  care, 

A  spectre  is,  which  all  to  shun  endeavor. 

The  word,  alas!  dies  even  in  the  pen, 

And  wax  and  leather  keep  the  lordship  then. 

What  wilt  from  me,  Base  Spirit,  say  ? — 

Brass,  marble,  parchment,  paper,  clay? 

The  terms  with  graver,  quill,  or  chisel,  stated? 

I  freely  leave  the  choice  to  thee. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Why  heat  thyself,  thus  instantly, 
With  eloquence  exaggerated? 

92 


Each  leaf  for  such  a  pact  is  good; 

And  to  subscribe  thy  name  thou'lt  take  a  drop  of  blood. 

FAUST 

If  thou  therewith  art  fully  satisfied, 
So  let  us  by  the  farce  abide. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Blood  is  a  juice  of  rarest  quality. 

FAUST 

Fear  not  that  I  this  pact  shall  seek  to  sever! 

The  promise  that  I  make  to  thee 

Is  just  the  sum  of  my  endeavor. 

I  have  myself  inflated  all  too  high; 

My  proper  place  is  thy  estate: 

The  Mighty  Spirit  deigns  me  no  reply, 

And  Nature  shuts  on  me  her  gate. 

The  thread  of  Thought  at  last  is  broken, 

And  knowledge  brings  disgust  unspoken. 

Let  us  the  sensual  deeps  explore, 

To  quench  the  fervors  of  glowing  passion! 

Let  every  marvel  take  form  and  fashion 

Through  the  impervious  veil  it  wore! 

Plunge  we  in  Time's  tumultuous  dance, 

In  the  rush  and  roll  of  Circumstance! 

Then  may  delight  and  distress, 

And  worry  and  success, 

Alternately  follow,  as  best  they  can: 

Restless  activity  proves  the  man! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

For  you  no  bound,  no  term  is  set. 
Whether  you  everywhere  be  trying, 
Or  snatch  a  rapid  bliss  in  flying, 

93 


JFaust 

May  it  agree  with  you,  what  you  get! 
Only  fall  to,  and  show  no  timid  balking. 

FAUST 

But  thou  hast  heard,  'tis  not  of  joy  we're  talking. 

I  take  the  wildering  whirl,  enjoyment's  keenest  pain, 

Enamored  hate,  exhilarant  disdain. 

My  bosom,  of  its  thirst  for  knowledge  sated, 

Shall  not,  henceforth,  from  any  pang  be  wrested, 

And  all  of  life  for  all  mankind  created 

Shall  be  within  mine  inmost  being  tested: 

The  highest,  lowest  forms  my  soul  shall  borrow, 

Shall  heap  upon  itself  their  bliss  and  sorrow, 

And  thus,  my  own  sole  self  to  all  their  selves  expanded, 

I  too,  at  last,  shall  with  them  all  be  stranded! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Believe  me,  who  for  many  a  thousand  year 

The  same  tough  meat  have  chewed  and  tested, 

That  from  the  cradle  to  the  bier 

No  man  the  ancient  leaven  has  digested! 

Trust  one  of  us,  this  Whole  supernal 

Is  made  but  for  a  God's  delight! 

He  dwells  in  splendor  single  and  eternal, 

But  us  he  thrusts  in  darkness,  out  of  sight, 

And  you  he  dowers  with  Day  and  Night. 

FAUST 
Nay,  but  I  will! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  good  reply ! 

One  only  fear  still  needs  repeating: 
The  art  is  long,  the  time  is  fleeting. 
Then  let  thyself  be  taught,  say  I! 
Go,  league  thyself  with  a  poet, 
Give  the  rein  to  his  imagination, 

94 


Then  wear  the  crown,  and  show  it, 

Of  the  qualities  of  his  creation, — 

The  courage  of  the  lion's  breed, 

The  wild  stag's  speed, 

The  Italian's  fiery  blood, 

The  North's  firm  fortitude! 

Let  him  find  for  thee  the  secret  tether 

That  binds  the  Noble  and  Mean  together, 

And  teach  thy  pulses  of  youth  and  pleasure 

To  love  by  rule,  and  hate  by  measure! 

I'd  like,  myself,  such  a  one  to  see: 

Sir  Microcosm  his  name  should  be. 

FAUST 

What  am  I,  then,  if  'tis  denied  my  part 
The  crown  of  all  humanity  to  win  me, 
Whereto  yearns  every  sense  within  me? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Why,  on  the  whole,  thou'rt — what  thou  art. 
Set  wigs  of  million  curls  upon  thy  head,  to  raise  thee, 
Wear  shoes  an  ell  in  height, — the  truth  betrays  thee, 
And  thou  remainest — what  thou  art. 

FAUST 

I  feel,  indeed,  that  I  have  made  the  treasure 

Of  human  thought  and  knowledge  mine,  in  vain; 

And  if  I  now  sit  down  in  restful  leisure, 

No  fount  of  newer  strength  is  in  my  brain: 

I  am  no  hair's-breadth  more  in  height, 

Nor  nearer  to  the  Infinite. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Good  Sir,  you  see  the  facts  precisely 

As  they  are  seen  by  each  and  all. 

We  must  arrange  them  now,  more  wisely, 

95 


Before  the  joys  of  life  shall  pall. 

Why,  Zounds!    Both  hands  and  feet  are,  truly— 

And  head  and  virile  forces — thine: 

Yet  all  that  I  indulge  in  newly, 

Is't  thence  less  wholly  mine? 

If  I've  six  stallions  in  my  stall, 

Are  not  their  forces  also  lent  me  ? 

I  speed  along,  completest  man  of  all, 

As  though  my  legs  were  four-and-twenty. 

Take  hold,  then!  let  reflection  rest, 

And  plunge  into  the  world  with  zest! 

I  say  to  thee,  a  speculative  wight 

Is  like  a  beast  on  moorlands  lean, 

That  round  and  round  some  fiend  misleads  to  evil  plight, 

While  all  about  lie  pastures  fresh  and  green. 

FAUST 
Then  how  shall  we  begin  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We'll  try  a  wider  sphere. 
What  place  of  martyrdom  is  here! 
Is't  life,  I  ask,  is't  even  prudence, 
To  bore  thyself  and  bore  the  students  ? 
Let  Neighbor  Paunch  to  that  attend ! 
Why  plague  thyself  with  threshing  straw  forever? 
The  best  thou  learnest,  in  the  end 
Thou  dar'st  not  tell  the  youngsters — never! 
I  hear  one's  footsteps,  hither  steering. 

FAUST 
To  see  him  now  I  have  no  heart. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

So  long  the  poor  boy  waits  a  hearing, 
He  must  not  unconsoled  depart. 

96 


Thy  cap  and  mantle  straightway  lend  me! 
I'll  play  the  comedy  with  art. 

(He  disguises  himself.) 

My  wits,  be  certain,  will  befriend  me. 
But  fifteen  minutes'  time  is  all  I  need; 
For  our  fine  trip,  meanwhile,  prepare  thyself  with  speed! 

[Exit  FAUST. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

(In  FAUST'S  long  mantle.) 

Reason  and  Knowledge  only  thou  despise, 

The  highest  strength  in  man  that  lies! 

Let  but  the  Lying  Spirit  bind  thee 

With  magic  works  and  shows  that  blind  thee, 

And  I  shall  have  thee  fast  and  sure! — 

Fate  such  a  bold,  untrammelled  spirit  gave  him, 

As  forwards,  onwards,  ever  must  endure; 

Whose  over-hasty  impulse  drave  him 

Past  earthly  joys  he  might  secure. 

Dragged  through  the  wildest  life,  will  I  enslave  him, 

Through  flat  and  stale  indifference; 

With  struggling,  chilling,  checking,  so  deprave  him 

That,  to  his  hot,  insatiate  sense, 

The  dream  of  drink  shall  mock,  but  never  lave  him: 

Refreshment  shall  his  lips  in  vain  implore — 

Had  he  not  made  himself  the  Devil's,  naught  could  save 

him, 
Still  were  he  lost  forevermore! 

(A  STUDENT  enters.) 

STUDENT 

A  short  time,  only,  am  I  here, 
And  come,  devoted  and  sincere, 
To  greet  and  know  the  man  of  fame, 
i  Whom  men  to  me  with  reverence  name. 

97 


JFaust 


MEPHISTOPHELES 


Your  courtesy  doth  flatter  me: 

You  see  a  man,  as  others  be. 

Have  you,  perchance,  elsewhere  begun? 

STUDENT 

Receive  me  now,  I  pray,  as  one 

Who  comes  to  you  with  courage  good, 

Somewhat  of  cash,  and  healthy  blood: 

My  mother  was  hardly  willing  to  let  me; 

But  knowledge  worth  having  I  fain  would  get  me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Then  you  have  reached  the  right  place  now. 

STUDENT 

I'd  like  to  leave  it,  I  must  avow; 

I  find  these  walls,  these  vaulted  spaces 

Are  anything  but  pleasant  places. 

Tis  all  so  cramped  and  close  and  mean; 

One  sees  no  tree,  no  glimpse  of  green, 

And  when  the  lecture-halls  receive  me, 

Seeing,  hearing,  and  thinking  leave  me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

All  that  depends  on  habitude. 

So  from  its  mother's  breasts  a  child 

At  first,  reluctant,  takes  its  food, 

But  soon  to  seek  them  is  beguiled. 

Thus,  at  the  breasts  of  Wisdom  clinging, 

Thou'lt  find  each  day  a  greater  rapture  bringing. 

STUDENT 

I'll  hang  thereon  with  joy,  and  freely  drain  them ; 
But  tell  me,  pray,  the  proper  means  to  gain  them. 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

Explain,  before  you  further  speak, 
The  special  faculty  you  seek. 

STUDENT 

I  crave  the  highest  erudition; 
And  fain  would  make  my  acquisition 
All  that  there  is  in  Earth  and  Heaven, 
In  Nature  and  in  Science  too. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Here  is  the  genuine  path  for  you; 
Yet  strict  attention  must  be  given. 

STUDENT 

Body  and  soul  thereon  I'll  wreak; 
Yet,  truly,  I've  some  inclination 
On  summer  holidays  to  seek 
A  little  freedom  and  recreation. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Use  well  your  time!    It  flies  so  swiftly  from  us; 

But  time  through  order  may  be  won,  I  promise. 

So,  Friend  (my  views  to  briefly  sum), 

First,  the  collegium  logicum. 

There  will  your  mind  be  drilled  and  braced, 

As  if  in  Spanish  boots  'twere  laced, 

And  thus,  to  graver  paces  brought, 

Twill  plod  along  the  path  of  thought, 

Instead  of  shooting  here  and  there, 

A  will-o'-the-wisp  in  murky  air. 

Days  will  be  spent  to  bid  you  know, 

What  once  you  did  at  a  single  blow, 

Like  eating  and  drinking,  free  and  strong,— 

That  one,  two,  three!  thereto  belong. 

99 


JFaust 

Truly  the  fabric  of  mental  fleece 

Resembles  a  weaver's  masterpiece, 

Where  a  thousand  threads  one  treadle  throws, 

Where  fly  the  shuttles  hither  and  thither, 

Unseen  the  threads  are  knit  together, 

And  an  infinite  combination  grows. 

Then,  the  philosopher  steps  in 

And  shows,  no  otherwise  it  could  have  been: 

The  first  was  so,  the  second  so, 

Therefore  the  third  and  fourth  are  so; 

Were  not  the  first  and  second,  then 

The  third  and  fourth  had  never  been. 

The  scholars  are  everywhere  believers, 

But  never  succeed  in  being  weavers. 

He  who  would  study  organic  existence, 

First  drives  out  the  soul  with  rigid  persistence; 

Then  the  parts  in  his  hand  he  may  hold  and  class, 

But  the  spiritual  link  is  lost,  alas! 

Encheircsin  naturce,  this  Chemistry  names, 

Nor  knows  how  herself  she  banters  and  blames! 

STUDENT 
I  cannot  understand  you  quite. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Your  mind  will  shortly  be  set  aright, 
When  you  have  learned,  all  things  reducing, 
To  classify  them  for  your  using. 

STUDENT 

I  feel  as  stupid,  from  all  you've  said, 
As  if  a  mill-wheel  whirled  in  my  head! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  after— first  and  foremost  duty— 
Of  Metaphysics  learn  the  use  and  beauty! 

100 


JFau0t 

See  that  you  most  profoundly  gain 

What  does  not  suit  the  human  brain! 

A  splendid  word  to  serve,  you'll  find 

For  what  goes  in — or  won't  go  in — your  mind. 

But  first,  at  least  this  half  a  year, 

To  order  rigidly  adhere; 

Five  hours  a  day,  you  understand, 

And  when  the  clock  strikes,  be  on  hand! 

Prepare  beforehand  for  your  part 

With  paragraphs  all  got  by  heart, 

So  you  can  better  watch,  and  look 

That  naught  is  said  but  what  is  in  the  book: 

Yet  in  thy  writing  as  unwearied  be, 

As  did  the  Holy  Ghost  dictate  to  thee! 

STUDENT 

No  need  to  tell  me  twice  to  do  it! 

I  think,  how  useful  'tis  to  write; 

For  what  one  has,  in  black  and  white, 

One  carries  home  and  then  goes  through  it 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yet  choose  thyself  a  faculty! 

.   • 

STUDENT 

I  cannot  reconcile  myself  to  Jurisprudence. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Nor  can  I  therefore  greatly  blame  you  students: 
I  know  what  science  this  has  come  to  be. 
All  rights  and  laws  are  still  transmitted 
Like  an  eternal  sickness  of  the  race, — 
From  generation  unto  generation  fitted, 
And  shifted  round  from  place  to  place. 
Reason  becomes  a  sham,  Beneficence  a  worry: 
Thou  art  a  grandchild,  therefore  woe  to  thee! 

101 


The  right  born  with  us,  ours  in  verity, 
This  to  consider,  there's,  alas!  no  hurry. 

STUDENT 

My  own  disgust  is  strengthened  by  your  speech: 

0  lucky  he,  whom  you  shall  teach! 
I've  almost  for  Theology  decided. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

1  should  not  wish  to  see  you  here  misguided: 
For,  as  regards  this  science,  let  me  hint 

Tis  very  hard  to  shun  the  false  direction; 
There's  so  much  secret  poison  lurking  in  't, 
So  like  the  medicine,  it  baffles  your  detection. 
Hear,  therefore,  one  alone,  for  that  is  best,  in  sooth, 
And  simply  take  your  master's  words  for  truth. 
On  words  let  your  attention  centre! 
Then  through  the  safest  gate  you'll  enter 
The  temple-halls  of  Certainty. 

STUDENT 
Yet  in  the  word  must  some  idea  be. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Of  course!    But  only  shun  too  over-sharp  a  tension, 

For  just  where  fails  the  comprehension, 

A  word  steps  promptly  in  as  deputy. 

With  words  'tis  excellent  disputing; 

Systems  to  words  'tis  easy  suiting; 

On  words  'tis  excellent  believing; 

No  word  can  ever  lose  a  jot  from  thieving. 

STUDENT 

Pardon!    With  many  questions  I  detain  you, 
Yet  must  I  trouble  you  again. 

102 


JFaust 

Of  Medicine  I  still  would  fain 

Hear  one  strong  word  that  might  explain  you. 

Three  years  is  but  a  little  space, 

And,  God!  who  can  the  field  embrace? 

If  one  some  index  could  be  shown, 

Twere  easier  groping  forward,  truly. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (aside) 

I'm  tired  enough  of  this  dry  tone, — 
Must  play  the  Devil  again,  and  fully. 

(Aloud) 

To  grasp  the  spirit  of  Medicine  is  easy: 
Learn  of  the  great  and  little  world  your  fill, 
To  let  it  go  at  last,  so  please  ye, 
Just  as  God  will! 

In  vain  that  through  the  realms  of  science  you  may  drift; 
Each  one  learns  only — just  what  learn  he  can: 
Yet  he  who  grasps  the  Moment's  gift, 
He  is  the  proper  man. 
Well-made  you  are,  'tis  not  to  be  denied, 
The  rest  a  bold  address  will  win  you; 
If  you  but  in  yourself  confide, 
At  once  confide  all  others  in  you. 
To  lead  the  women,  learn  the  special  feeling! 
Their  everlasting  aches  and  groans, 
In  thousand  tones, 

Have  all  one  source,  one  mode  of  healing; 
And  if  your  acts  are  half  discreet, 
You'll  always  have  them  at  your  feet. 
A  title  first  must  draw  and  interest  them, 
And  show  that  yours  all  other  arts  exceeds; 
Then,  as  a  greeting,  you  are  free  to  touch  and  test  them, 
While,  thus  to  do,  for  years  another  pleads. 
You  press  and  count  the  pulse's  dances, 
And  then,  with  burning  sidelong  glances. 

103 


jFauat 

You  clasp  the  swelling  hips,  to  see 
If  tightly  laced  her  corsets  be. 

STUDENT 

That's  better,  now!    The  How  and  Where,  one  sees. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

My  worthy  friend,  gray  are  all  theories, 
And  green  alone  Life's  golden  tree. 

STUDENT 

I  swear  to  you,  'tis  like  a  dream  to  me. 

Might  I  again  presume,  with  trust  unbounded, 

To  hear  your  wisdom  thoroughly  expounded? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Most  willingly,  to  what  extent  I  may. 

STUDENT 

I  cannot  really  go  away: 

Allow  me  that  my  album  first  I  reach  you, — 

Grant  me  this  favor,  I  beseech  you! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Assuredly. 

(He  writes,  and  returns  the  boo%.) 

STUDENT  (reads) 

Eritis  sicut  Deus,  scientes  bonum  et  malum. 
(Closes  the  boo\  with  reverence,  and  withdraws?) 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Follow  the  ancient  text,  and  the  snake  thou  wast  ordered  to 

trample! 
With  all  thy  likeness  to  God,  thou'lt  yet  be  a  sorry  example! 

(FAUST  enters?) 
104 


JFau0t 

FAUST 

Now,  whither  shall  we  go  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

As  best  it  pleases  thee. 

The  little  world,  and  then  the  great,  we'll  see. 
With  what  delight,  what  profit  winning, 
Shalt  thou  sponge  through  the  term  beginning! 

FAUST 

Yet  with  the  flowing  beard  I  wear, 
Both  ease  and  grace  will  fail  me  there. 
The  attempt,  indeed,  were  a  futile  strife; 
I  never  could  learn  the  ways  of  life. 
I  feel  so  small  before  others,  and  thence 
Should  always  find  embarrassments. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

My  friend,  thou  soon  shalt  lose  all  such  misgiving: 
Be  thou  but  self-possessed,  thou  hast  the  art  of  living! 

FAUST 

How  shall  we  leave  the  house,  and  start? 
Where  hast  thou  servant,  coach  and  horses  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We'll  spread  this  cloak  with  proper  art, 
Then  through  the  air  direct  our  courses. 
But  only,  on  so  bold  a  flight, 
Be  sure  to  have  thy  luggage  light. 
A  little  burning  air,  which  I  shall  soon  prepare  us, 
Above  the  earth  will  nimbly  bear  us, 
And,  if  we're  light,  we'll  travel  swift  and  clear: 
I  gratulate  thee  on  thy  new  career! 

105 


AUERBACH'S  CELLAR  IN  LEIPZIG 
CAROUSAL  OF  JOLLY  COMPANIONS 

FROSCH 

IS  no  one  laughing?  no  one  drinking? 
I'll  teach  you  how  to  grin,  I'm  thinking. 
To-day  you're  like  wet  straw,  so  tame; 
And  usually  you're  all  aflame. 

BRANDER 

Now  that's  your  fault;  from  you  we  nothing  see, 
No  beastliness  and  no  stupidity. 

FROSCH 

(Pours  a  glass  of  wine  over  BRANDER'S  head.) 
There's  both  together! 

BRANDER 

Twice  a  swine! 
106 


JFaust 

FROSCH 

You  wanted  them:  I've  given  you  mine. 

SIEBEL 

Turn  out  who  quarrels — out  the  door! 

With  open  throat  sing  chorus,  drink  and  roar! 

Up!  holla!  ho! 

ALTMAYER 

Woe's  me,  the  fearful  bellow! 
Bring  cotton,  quick!    He's  split  my  ears,  that  fellow. 

SIEBEL 

When  the  vault  echoes  to  the  song, 

One  first  perceives  the  bass  is  deep  and  strong. 

FROSCH 

Well  said!  and  out  with  him  that  takes  the  least  offence! 
Ah,  tara,  lara,  dal 

ALTMAYER 

Ah,  tara,  lara,  dal 

FROSCH 

The  throats  are  tuned,  commence! 

(Sings.) 

The  dear  old  holy   "Roman  realm, 
How  does  it  hold  together? 

BRANDER 

A  nasty  song!    Fie!  a  political  song — 

A  most  offensive  song!    Thank  God,  each  morning,  therefore, 
That  you  have  not  the  Roman  realm  to  care  for! 
At  least,  I  hold  it  so  much  gain  for  me, 
That  I  nor  Chancellor  nor  Kaiser  be. 

107 


jfauat 

Yet  also  we  must  have  a  ruling  head,  I  hope, 
And  so  we'll  choose  ourselves  a  Pope. 
You  know  the  quality  that  can 
Decide  the  choice,  and  elevate  the  man. 

FROSCH  (sings) 

Soar  up,  soar  up,  Dame  Nightingale! 
Ten  thousand  times  my  sweetheart  hail! 

SIEBEL 

No,  greet  my  sweetheart  not!    I  tell  you,  I'll  resent  it. 

FROSCH 

My  sweetheart  greet  and  kiss!    I  dare  you  to  prevent  it! 

(Sings.) 

Draw  the  latch!  the  darkness  males'. 
Draw  the  latch!  the  lover  wattes. 
Shut  the  latch!  the  morning  breads. 

SIEBEL 

Yes,  sing  away,  sing  on,  and  praise,  and  brag  of  her! 

I'll  wait  my  proper  time  for  laughter: 

Me  by  the  nose  she  led,  and  now  she'll  lead  you  after. 

Her  paramour  should  be  an  ugly  gnome, 

Where  four  roads  cross,  in  wanton  play  to  meet  her: 

An  old  he-goat,  from  Blocksberg  coming  home, 

Should  his  good-night  in  lustful  gallop  bleat  her! 

A  fellow  made  of  genuine  flesh  and  blood 

Is  for  the  wench  a  deal  too  good. 

Greet  her?    Not  I:  unless,  when  meeting, 

To  smash  her  windows  be  a  greeting! 

BRANDER  (pounding  on  the  table) 

Attention!    Hearken  now  to  me! 
Confess,  Sirs,  I  know  how  to  live. 

108 


Enamored  persons  here  have  we, 

And  I,  as  suits  their  quality, 

Must  something  fresh  for  their  advantage  give. 

Take  heed!  Tis  of  the  latest  cut,  my  strain, 

And  all  strike  in  at  each  refrain! 

(He  sings.} 

There  was  a  rat  in  the  cellar-nest, 
Whom  fat  and  butter  made  smoother: 
He  had  a  paunch  beneath  his  vest 
Like  that  of  Doctor  Luther. 
The  cook  laid  poison  cunningly, 
And  then  as  sore  oppressed  was  he 
As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom. 

CHORUS  (shouting) 
As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom! 

BRANDER 

He  ran  around,  he  ran  about, 

His  thirst  in  puddles  laving; 

He  gnawed  and  scratched  the  house  throughout, 

But  nothing  cured  his  raving. 

He  whirled  and  jumped,  with  torment  mad, 

And  soon  enough  the  poor  beast  had, 

As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom. 

CHORUS 
As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom! 

BRANDER 

And  driven  at  last,  in  open  day, 
He  ran  into  the  kitchen, 
Fell  on  the  hearth,  and  squirming  lay, 
In  the  last  convulsion  twitching. 
Then  laughed  the  murderess  in  her  glee: 
109 


JFatist 

"Ha!  ha!  he's  at  his  last  gasp,"  said  she, 
"As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom!" 

CHORUS 
As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom! 

SIEBEL 

How  the  dull  fools  enjoy  the  matter! 

To  me  it  is  a  proper  art 

Poison  for  such  poor  rats  to  scatter. 

BRANDER 

Perhaps  you'll  warmly  take  their  part? 

ALTMAYER 

The  bald-pate  pot-belly  I  have  noted: 
Misfortune  tames  him  by  degrees; 
For  in  the  rat  by  poison  bloated 
His  own  most  natural  form  he  sees. 

FAUST  AND  MEPHISTOPHELES 
MEPHISTOPHELES 

Before  all  else,  I  bring  thee  hither 
Where  boon  companions  meet  together, 
To  let  thee  see  how  smooth  life  runs  away. 
Here,  for  the  folk,  each  day's  a  holiday: 
With  little  wit,  and  ease  to  suit  them, 
They  whirl  in  narrow,  circling  trails, 
Like  kittens  playing  with  their  tails; 
And  if  no  headache  persecute  them, 
So  long  the  host  may  credit  give, 
They  merrily  and  careless  live. 

BRANDER 

The  fact  is  easy  to  unravel, 

Their  air's  so  odd,  they've  just  returned  from  travel: 
A  single  hour  they've  not  been  here. 

no 


FROSCH 

You've  verily  hit  the  truth!    Leipzig  to  me  is  dear: 
Paris  in  miniature,  how  it  refines  its  people! 

SIEBEL 
Who  are  the  strangers,  should  you  guess  ? 

FROSCH 

Let  me  alone!    I'll  set  them  first  to  drinking, 
And  then,  as  one  a  child's  tooth  draws,  with  cleverness, 
I'll  worm  their  secret  out,  I'm  thinking. 
They're  of  a  noble  house,  that's  very  clear: 
Haughty  and  discontented  they  appear. 

BRANDER 

They're  mountebanks,  upon  a  revel. 

ALTMAYER 

Perhaps. 

FROSCH 

Look  out,  I'll  smoke  them  now! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (to  FAUST1) 

Not  if  he  had  them  by  the  neck,  I  vow, 
Would  e'er  these  people  scent  the  Devil! 

FAUST 
Fair  greeting,  gentlemen! 

SIEBEL 

Our  thanks:  we  give  the  same. 
(Murmurs,  inspecting  MEPHISTOPHELES  from  the  side.} 

In  one  foot  is  the  fellow  lame? 

in 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

Is  it  permitted  that  we  share  your  leisure  ? 

In  place  of  cheering  drink,  which  one  seeks  vainly  here, 

Your  company  shall  give  us  pleasure. 

ALTMAYER 

A  most  fastidious  person  you  appear. 

FROSCH 

No  doubt  'twas  late  when  you  from  Rippach  started  ? 
And  supping  there  with  Hans  occasioned  your  delay? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We  passed,  without  a  call,  to-day. 
At  our  last  interview,  before  we  parted 
Much  of  his  cousins  did  he  speak,  entreating 
That  we  should  give  to  each  his  kindly  greeting. 

(He  bows  to  FROSCH.) 

ALTMAYER   (aside) 

You  have  it  now!  he  understands. 

SIEBEL 

A  knave  sharp-set! 
FROSCH 

Just  wait  awhile:  I'll  have  him  yet. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

If  I  am  right,  we  heard  the  sound 
Of  well-trained  voices,  singing  chorus; 
And  truly,  song  must  here  rebound 
Superbly  from  the  arches  o'er  us. 

FROSCH 
Are  you,  perhaps,  a  virtuoso? 

112 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

O  no!  my  wish  is  great,  my  power  is  only  so-so. 

ALTMAYER 

Give  us  a  song! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

If  you  desire,  a  number. 

SIEBEL 
So  that  it  be  a  bran-new  strain! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

We've  just  retraced  our  way  frorr  Spain, 

The  lovely  land  of  wine,  and  song,  and  slumber. 


There  was  a  king  once  reigning, 
Who  had  a  big  black  flea  — 

FROSCH 

Hear,  hear!    A  flea!    D'ye  rightly  take  the  jest? 
I  call  a  flea  a  tidy  guest. 

MEPHISTOPHELES   (sings) 

There  was  a  king  once  reigning, 
Who  had  a  big  black  flea, 
And  loved  him  past  explaining, 
As  his  own  son  were  he. 
He  called  his  man  of  stitches; 
The  tailor  came  straightway: 
Here,  measure  the  lad  for  breeches, 
And  measure  his  coat,  I  say! 

BRANDER 

But  mind,  allow  the  tailor  no  caprices: 
Enjoin  upon  him,  as  his  head  is  dear, 

"3 


To  most  exactly  measure,  sew  and  shear, 
So  that  the  breeches  have  no  creases! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  silk  and  velvet  gleaming 
He  now  was  wholly  drest — 
Had  a  coat  with  ribbons  streaming, 
A  cross  upon  his  breast. 
He  had  the  first  of  stations, 
A  minister's  star  and  name; 
And  also  all  his  relations 
Great  lords  at  court  became. 

And  the  lords  and  ladies  of  honor 
Were  plagued,  awake  and  in  bed; 
The  queen  she  got  them  upon  her, 
The  maids  were  bitten  and  bled. 
And  they  did  not  dare  to  brush  them, 
Or  scratch  them,  day  or  night: 
We  crack  them  and  we  crush  them, 
At  once,  whene'er  they  bite. 

CHORUS  (shouting) 

We  crack  them  and  we  crush  them, 
At  once,  whene'er  they  bite! 

FROSCH 
Bravo!  bravo!  that  was  fine. 

SIEBEL 

Every  flea  may  it  so  befall! 

BRANDER 

Point  your  fingers  and  nip  them  all! 

ALTMAYER 

Hurrah  for  Freedom!    Hurrah  for  wine! 

114 


JFaust 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  fain  would  drink  with  you,  my  glass  to  Freedom  clinking, 
If  'twere  a  better  wine  that  here  I  see  you  drinking. 

SIEBEL 
Don't  let  us  hear  that  speech  again! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Did  I  not  fear  the  landlord  might  complain, 
I'd  treat  these  worthy  guests,  with  pleasure, 
To  some  from  out  our  cellar's  treasure. 

SIEBEL 

Just  treat,  and  let  the  landlord  me  arraign! 

FROSCH 

And  if  the  wine  be  good,  our  praises  shall  be  ample. 

But  do  not  give  too  very  small  a  sample; 

For,  if  its  quality  I  decide, 

With  a  good  mouthful  I  must  be  supplied. 

ALTMAYER  (aside) 

They're  from  the  Rhine!    I  guessed  as  much,  before. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Bring  me  a  gimlet  here! 

BRANDER 

What  shall  therewith  be  done? 
You've  not  the  casks  already  at  the  door? 

ALTMAYER 

Yonder,  within  the  landlord's  box  of  tools,  there's  one! 

"5 


MEPHISTOPHELES  (tafes  the  gimlet) 

(To  FROSCH.) 

Now,  give  me  of  your  taste  some  intimation. 

FROSCH 
How  do  you  mean  ?    Have  you  so  many  kinds  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  choice  is  free:  make  up  your  minds. 

ALTMAYER  (tO  FROSCH) 

Aha!  you  lick  your  chops,  from  sheer  anticipation. 

FROSCH 

Good!  if  I  have  the  choice,  so  let  the  wine  be  Rhenish! 
Our  Fatherland  can  best  the  sparkling  cup  replenish. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

(boring  a  hole  in  the  edge  of  the  table,  at  the  place  where 

FROSCH  sits) 

Get  me  a  little  wax,  to  make  the  stoppers,  quick! 

ALTMAYER 

Ah!  I  perceive  a  juggler's  trick. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (tO  BRANDER) 

And  you? 

BRANDER 

Champagne  shall  be  my  wine, 
And  let  it  sparkle  fresh  and  fine! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

(bores:  in  the  meantime  one  has  made  the  wax  stoppers,  and 

plugged  the  holes  with  them.} 

116 


JFaust 

BRANDER 

What's  foreign  one  can't  always  keep  quite  clear  of, 
For  good  things,  oft,  are  not  so  near; 
A  German  can't  endure  the  French  to  see  or  hear  of, 
Yet  drinks  their  wines  with  hearty  cheer. 

SIEBEL 
(as  MEPHISTOPHELES  approaches  his  seat) 

For  me,  I  grant,  sour  wine  is  out  of  place; 
Fill  up  my  glass  with  sweetest,  will  you? 

MEPHISTOPHELES     (boring) 

Tokay  shall  flow  at  once,  to  fill  you! 

ALTMAYER 

No — look  me,  Sirs,  straight  in  the  face! 
I  see  you  have  your  fun  at  our  expense. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

O  no!  with  gentlemen  of  such  pretence, 
That  were  to  venture  far,  indeed. 
Speak  out,  and  make  your  choice  with  speed! 
With  what  a  vintage  can  I  serve  you  ? 

ALTMAYER 

With  any — only  satisfy  our  need. 

(After  the  holes  have  been  bored  and  plugged) 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (with  singular  gestures) 

Grapes  the  vine-stem  bears, 

Horns  the  he-goat  wears! 

The  grapes  are  juicy,  the  vines  are  wood, 

The  wooden  table  gives  wine  as  good! 

Into  the  depths  of  Nature  peer, — 

Only  believe  there's  a  miracle  here! 

Now  draw  the  stoppers,  and  drink  your  fill! 

117 


ALL 

(as  they  draw  out  the  stoppers,  and  the  wine  which  has  been 
desired  flows  into  the  glass  of  each} 

O  beautiful  fountain,  that  flows  at  will ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  have  a  care  that  you  nothing  spill! 

(They  drinl^  repeatedly?) 

ALL  (sing) 

As  'twere  five  hundred  hogs,  we  feel 
So  cannibalic  jolly! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

See,  now,  the  race  is  happy — it  is  free! 

FAUST 
To  leave  them  is  my  inclination. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Take  notice,  first!  their  bestiality 
Will  make  a  brilliant  demonstration. 

SEEBEL 

(drinks  carelessly:  the  wine  spills  upon  the  earth,  and  turns  to 

flame) 

Help!    Fire!    Help!    Hell-fire  is  sent! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (charming  away  the  flame) 
Be  quiet,  friendly  element! 

(To  the  revellers) 

A  bit  of  purgatory  'twas  for  this  time,  merely. 

118 


JFaust 

SIEBEL 

What  mean  you?    Wait! — you'll  pay  for't  dearly! 
You'll  know  us,  to  your  detriment. 

FROSCH 
Don't  try  that  game  a  second  time  upon  us! 

ALTMAYER 

I  think  we'd  better  send  him  packing  quietly. 

SIEBEL 

What,  Sir!  you  dare  to  make  so  free, 
And  play  your  hocus-pocus  on  us ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Be  still,  old  wine-tub. 

SIEBEL 

Broomstick,  you! 
You  face  it  out,  impertinent  and  heady? 

BRANDER 

Just  wait!  a  shower  of  blows  is  ready. 

ALTMAYER 

(draws  a  stopper  out  of  the  table:  fire  flies  in  his  face.) 
I  burn!    I  burn! 

SIEBEL 

Tis  magic!    Strike — 

The  knave  is  outlawed!    Cut  him  as  you  like! 
(They  draw  their  J(nives,  and  rush  upon  MEPHISTOPHELES.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (with  solemn  gestures) 

False  word  and  form  of  air, 
Change  place,  and  sense  ensnare! 
Be  here — and  there! 

(They  stand  amazed  and  loo\  at  each  other.) 
119 


ALTMAYER 

Where  am  I  ?    What  a  lovely  land! 

FROSCH 
Vines  ?    Can  I  trust  my  eyes  ? 

SDEBEL 

And  purple  grapes  at  hand! 

BRANDER 

Here,  over  this  green  arbor  bending, 
See  what  a  vine!  what  grapes  depending! 

(He  ta\es  SIEBEL  by  the  nose:  the  others  do  the  same  recipro- 
cally, and  raise  their  tyives.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (OS  above) 

Loose,  Error,  from  their  eyes  the  band, 

And  how  the  Devil  jests,  be  now  enlightened! 

(He  disappears  with  FAUST:  the  revellers  start  and  separate.) 

SIEBEL 

What  happened  ? 

ALTMAYER 

How? 

FROSCH 

Was  that  your  nose  I  tightened? 

BRANDER    (tO    SIEBEL) 

And  yours  that  still  I  have  in  hand  ? 

ALTMAYER 

It  was  a  blow  that  went  through  every  limb! 
Give  me  a  chair!    I  sink!  my  senses  swim. 

120 


jFatm 

FROSCH 

But  what  has  happened,  tell  me  now? 

SIEBEL 

Where  is  he?    If  I  catch  the  scoundrel  hiding, 
He  shall  not  leave  alive,  I  vow. 

ALTMAYER 

I  saw  him  with  these  eyes  upon  a  wine-cask  riding 

Out  of  the  cellar-door,  just  now. 

Still  in  my  feet  the  fright  like  lead  is  weighing. 

(He  turns  towards  the  table.} 
Why!    If  the  fount  of  wine  should  still  be  playing? 

SIEBEL 

'Twas  all  deceit,  and  lying,  false  design! 

FROSCH 
And  yet  it  seemed  as  I  were  drinking  wine. 

BRANDER 

But  with  the  grapes  how  was  it,  pray? 

ALTMAYER 

Shall  one  believe  no  miracles,  just  say! 


121 


VI 


WITCHES'  KITCHEN 

(Upon  a  low  hearth  stands  a  great  caldron,  under  which  a  fire 
is  burning.  Various  figures  appear  in  the  vapors  which 
rise  from  the  caldron.  An  ape  sits  beside  it,  sfyms  it,  and 
watches  lest  it  boil  over.  The  he-ape,  with  the  young 
ones,  sits  near  and  warms  himself.  Ceiling  and  walls  are 
covered  with  the  most  fantastic  witch-implements.) 

FAUST     MEPHISTOPHELES 
FAUST 

THESE  crazy  signs  of  witches'  craft  repel  me! 
I  shall  recover,  dost  thou  tell  me, 
Through  this  insane,  chaotic  play? 
From  an  old  hag  shall  I  demand  assistance  ? 
And  will  her  foul  mess  take  away 
Full  thirty  years  from  my  existence  ? 
Woe's  me,  canst  thou  naught  better  find! 
Another  baffled  hope  must  be  lamented: 

122 


Has  Nature,  then,  and  has  a  noble  mind 
Not  any  potent  balsam  yet  invented  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Once  more,  my  friend,  thou  talkest  sensibly. 

There  is,  to  make  thee  young,  a  simpler  mode  and  apter; 

But  in  another  book  'tis  writ  for  thee, 

And  is  a  most  eccentric  chapter. 

FAUST 
Yet  will  I  know  it. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Good!  the  method  is  revealed 
Without  or  gold  or  magic  or  physician. 
Betake  thyself  to  yonder  field, 
There  hoe  and  dig,  as  thy  condition; 
Restrain  thyself,  thy  sense  and  will 
Within  a  narrow  sphere  to  flourish; 
With  unmixed  food  thy  body  nourish; 
Live  with  the  ox  as  ox,  and  think  it  not  a  theft 
That  thou  manur'st  the  acre  which  thou  reapest; — 
That,  trust  me,  is  the  best  mode  left, 
Whereby  for  eighty  years  thy  youth  thou  keepest! 

FAUST 

I  am  not  used  to  that;  I  cannot  stoop  to  try  it— 
To  take  the  spade  in  hand,  and  ply  it. 
The  narrow  being  suits  me  not  at  all. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Then  to  thine  aid  the  witch  must  call. 

FAUST 

Wherefore  the  hag,  and  her  alone? 
Canst  thou  thyself  not  brew  the  potion? 

123 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

That  were  a  charming  sport,  I  own: 

I'd  build  a  thousand  bridges  meanwhile,  I've  a  notion. 

Not  Art  and  Science  serve,  alone; 

Patience  must  in  the  work  be  shown. 

Long  is  the  calm  brain  active  in  creation; 

Time,  only,  strengthens  the  fine  fermentation. 

And  all,  belonging  thereunto, 

Is  rare  and  strange,  howe'er  you  take  it: 

The  Devil  taught  the  thing,  'tis  true, 

And  yet  the  Devil  cannot  make  it. 

(Perceiving  the  Animals} 

See,  what  a  delicate  race  they  be! 
That  is  the  maid!  the  man  is  he! 

(To  the  Animals} 
It  seems  the  mistress  has  gone  away  ? 

THE  ANIMALS 

Carousing,  to-day! 

Off  and  about, 

By    the   chimney    out! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What  time  takes  she  for  dissipating  ? 

THE  ANIMALS 

While  we  to  warm  our  paws  are  waiting. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (tO   FAUST) 

How  findest  thou  the  tender  creatures? 

FAUST 

Absurder  than  I  ever  yet  did  see. 

124 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

Why,  just  such  talk  as  this,  for  me, 

Is  that  which  has  the  most  attractive  features! 

(To  the  Animals) 

But  tell  me  now,  ye  cursed  puppets, 
Why  do  ye  stir  the  porridge  so? 

THE  ANIMALS 

We're  cooking  watery  soup  for  beggars. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Then  a  great  public  you  can  show. 

THE  HE-APE 

(comes  up  and  fawns  on  MEPHISTOPHELES) 

O  cast  thou  the  dice! 
Make  me  rich  in  a  trice, 
Let  me  win  in  good  season! 
Things  are  badly  controlled, 
And  had  I  but  gold, 
So  had  I  my  reason. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

How  would  the  ape  be  sure  his  luck  enhances, 
Could  he  but  try  the  lottery's  chances! 

((In  the  meantime  the  young  apes  have  been  playing  with  a 
large  ball,  which  they  now  roll  forward.) 

THE  HE-APE 

The  world's  the  ball: 
Doth  rise  and  fall, 
And  roll  incessant: 
125 


Like  glass  doth  ring, 
A  hollow  thing, — 
How  soon  will't  spring, 
And  drop,  quiescent? 
Here  bright  it  gleams, 
Here  brighter  seems: 
I  live  at  present! 
Dear  son,  I  say, 
Keep  thou  away! 
Thy  doom  is  spoken! 
Tis  made  of  clay, 
And  will  be  broken. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What  means  the  sieve? 

THE  HE-APE  (taking  it  down) 

Wert  thou  the  thief, 

I'd  know  him  and  shame  him. 

(He  runs  to  the  SHE-APE,  and  lets  her  looJ^  through  it,) 

Look  through  the  sieve! 
Know'st  thou  the  thief, 
And  darest  not  name  him  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (approaching  the  fire) 
And  what's  this  pot  ? 

HE-APE  AND  SHE-APE 

The  fool  knows  it  not! 
He  knows  not  the  pot, 
He  knows  not  the  kettle! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Impertinent  beast! 

126 


THE  HE-APE 

Take  the  brush  here,  at  least, 
And  sit  down  on  the  settle! 

(fie  invites  MEPHISTOPHELES  to  sit  down.) 

FAUST 

{who  during  all  this  time  has  been  standing  before  a  mirror, 
now  approaching  and  now  retreating  from  it) 

What  do  I  see?    What  heavenly  form  revealed 
Shows  through  the  glass  from  Magic's  fair  dominions! 

0  lend  me,  Love,  the  swiftest  of  thy  pinions, 
And  bear  me  to  her  beauteous  field! 

Ah,  if  I  leave  this  spot  with  fond  designing, 

If  I  attempt  to  venture  near, 

Dim,  as  through  gathering  mist,  her  charms  appear! — 

A  woman's  form,  in  beauty  shining! 

Can  woman,  then,  so  lovely  be? 

And  must  I  find  her  body,  there  reclining, 

Of  all  the  heavens  the  bright  epitome? 

Can  Earth  with  such  a  thing  be  mated  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Why,  surely,  if  a  God  first  plagues  Himself  six  days, 

Then,  self -contented,  Bravo  I  says, 

Must  something  clever  be  created. 

This  time,  thine  eyes  be  satiate! 

I'll  yet  detect  thy  sweetheart  and  ensnare  her, 

And  blest  is  he,  who  has  the  lucky  fate, 

Some  day,  as  bridegroom,  home  to  bear  her. 

(FAUST  gazes  continually  in  the  mirror.  MEPHISTOPHELES, 
stretching  himself  out  on  the  settle,  and  playing  with  the 
brush,  continues  to  spea](.) 

So  sit  I,  like  the  King  upon  his  throne: 

1  hold  the  sceptre,  here, — and  lack  the  crown  alone. 

127 


JFaust 

THE  ANIMALS 

{who  up  to  this  time  have  been  making  all  kinds  of  fantastic 
movements  together  bring  a  crown  to  MEPHISTOPHELES 
with  great  noise.) 

O  be  them  so  good 

With  sweat  and  with  blood 

The  crown  to  belime! 

(They  handle  the  crown  awkwardly  and  brea\  it  into  two 
pieces,  with  which  they  spring  around.) 

'Tis  done,  let  it  be! 
We  speak  and  we  see, 
We  hear  and  we  rhyme! 

FAUST  (before  the  mirror) 
Woe's  me!    I  fear  to  lose  my  wits. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (pointing  to  the  Animals) 
My  own  head,  now,  is  really  nigh  to  sinking. 

THE  ANIMALS 

If  lucky  our  hits, 

And  everything  fits, 

Tis  thoughts,  and  we're  thinking! 

FAUST  (as  above) 

My  bosom  burns  with  that  sweet  vision; 
Let  us,  with  speed,  away  from  here! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (in  the  same  attitude) 

One  must,  at  least,  make  this  admission — 
They're  poets,  genuine  and  sincere. 

(The  caldron,  which  the  SHE-APE  has  up  to  this  time  neglected 
to  watch,  begins  to  boil  over:  there  ensues  a  great  flame, 

128 


JFau0t 

which  blazes  out  the  chimney.    The  WITCH  comes  career- 
ing down  through  the  flame,  with  terrible  cries.) 

THE   WITCH 

Ow!  ow!  ow!  ow! 
The  damned  beast — the  cursed  sow! 
To  leave  the  kettle,  and  singe  the  Frau! 
Accursed  fere! 

(Perceiving  FAUST  and  MEPHISTOPHELES.) 

What  is  that  here? 
Who  are  you  here? 
What  want  you  thus  ? 
Who  sneaks  to  us  ? 
The  fire-pain 
Burn  bone  and  brain! 

(She  plunges  the  skimming-ladle  into  the  caldron,  and  scatters 
flames  towards  FAUST,  MEPHISTOPHELES,  and  the  Animals. 
The  Animals  whimper?) 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

(reversing  the  brush,  which  he  has  been  holding  in  his  hand, 
and  striding  among  the  jars  and  glasses) 

In  two!  in  two! 

There  lies  the  brew! 

There  lies  the  glass! 

The  joke  will  pass, 

As  time,  foul  ass! 

To  the  singing  of  thy  crew. 

(As  the  WITCH  starts  bac\,  full  of  wrath  and  horror) 

Ha!  know'st  thou  me?    Abomination,  thou! 
Know'st  thou,  at  last,  thy  Lord  and  Master? 
What  hinders  me  from  smiting  now 
Thee  and  thy  monkey-sprites  with  fell  disaster? 
Hast  for  the  scarlet  coat  no  reverence? 

129 


Dost  recognize  no  more  the  tall  cock's-feather? 
Have  I  concealed  this  countenance? — 
Must  tell  my  name,  old  face  of  leather? 

THE   WITCH 

O  pardon,  Sir,  the  rough  salute! 

Yet  I  perceive  no  cloven  foot; 

And  both  your  ravens,  where  are  they  now  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

This  time,  I'll  let  thee  'scape  the  debt; 

For  since  we  two  together  met, 

'Tis  verily  full  many  a  day  now. 

Culture,  which  smooth  the  whole  world  licks, 

Also  unto  the  Devil  sticks. 

The  days  of  that  old  Northern  phantom  now  are  over: 

Where  canst  thou  horns  and  tail  and  claws  discover  ? 

And,  as  regards  the  foot,  which  I  can't  spare,  in  truth, 

Twould  only  make  the  people  shun  me; 

Therefore  I've  worn,  like  many  a  spindly  youth, 

False  calves  these  many  years  upon  me. 

THE  WITCH  (dancing) 

Reason  and  sense  forsake  my  brain, 
Since  I  behold  Squire  Satan  here  again! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Woman,  from  such  a  name  refrain! 

THE   WITCH 

Why  so?    What  has  it  done  to  thee ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

It's  long  been  written  in  the  Book  of  Fable; 
Yet,  therefore,  no  whit  better  men  we  see: 
The  Evil  One  has  left,  the  evil  ones  are  stable. 

130 


JFaust 

Sir  Baron  call  me  thou,  then  is  the  matter  good; 
A  cavalier  am  I,  like  others  in  my  bearing. 
Thou  hast  no  doubt  about  my  noble  blood: 
See,  here's  the  coat-of-arms  that  I  am  wearing! 

(He  makfs  an  indecent  gesture.) 

THE  WITCH  (laughs  immoderately) 

Ha!  ha!    That's  just  your  way,  I  know: 
A  rogue  you  are,  and  you  were  always  so. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (tO  FAUST) 

My  friend,  take  proper  heed,  I  pray! 
To  manage  witches,  this  is  just  the  way. 

THE   WITCH 

Wherein,  Sirs,  can  I  be  of  use? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Give  us  a  goblet  of  the  well-known  juice! 
But,  I  must  beg  you,  of  the  oldest  brewage; 
The  years  a  double  strength  produce. 

THE   WITCH 

With  all  my  heart!    Now,  here's  a  bottle, 
Wherefrom,  sometimes,  I  wet  my  throttle, 
Which,  also,  not  the  slightest,  stinks; 
And  willingly  a  glass  I'll  fill  him. 

(  Whispering) 

Yet,  if  this  man  without  due  preparation  drinks, 
As  well  thou  know'st,  within  an  hour  'twill  kill  him. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

He  is  a  friend  of  mine,  with  whom  it  will  agree, 
And  he  deserves  thy  kitchen's  best  potation: 


Come,  draw  thy  circle,  speak  thine  adjuration, 
And  fill  thy  goblet  full  and  free! 

THE   WITCH 

(with  fantastic  gestures  draws  a  circle  and  places  mysterious 
articles  therein;  meanwhile  the  glasses  begin  to  ring,  the 
caldron  to  sound,  and  make  a  musical  accompaniment. 
Finally  she  brings  a  great  booJ{,  and  stations  in  the  circle 
the  Apes,  who  are  obliged  to  serve  as  reading-desk^,  and  to 
hold  the  torches.  She  then  beckons  FAUST  to  approach.} 

FAUST   (tO  MEPHISTOPHELES) 

Now,  what  shall  come  of  this  ?  the  creatures  antic, 
The  crazy  stuff,  the  gestures  frantic, — 
All  the  repulsive  cheats  I  view, — 
Are  known  to  me,  and  hated,  too. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

O,  nonsense!    That's  a  thing  for  laughter; 
Don't  be  so  terribly  severe! 
She  juggles  you  as  doctor  now,  that,  after, 
The  beverage  may  work  the  proper  cheer. 

(He  persuades  FAUST  to  step  into  the  circle.) 

THE   WITCH 

(begins  to  declaim,  with  much  emphasis,  from  the  booty 

See,  thus  it's  done ! 
Make  ten  of  one, 
And  two  let  be, 
Make  even  three, 
And  rich  thou  'It  be. 
Cast  o'er  the  four! 
From  five  and  six 
(The  witch's  tricks) 
Make  seven  and  eight, 
132 


JFauat 

"Tis  finished  straight! 

And  nine  is  one, 

And  ten  is  none. 

This  is  the  witch's  once-one's-one! 

FAUST 
She  talks  like  one  who  raves  in  fever. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Thou'lt  hear  much  more  before  we  leave  her. 

Tis  all  the  same:  the  book  I  can  repeat, 

Such  time  I've  squandered  o'er  the  history: 

A  contradiction  thus  complete 

Is  always  for  the  wise,  no  less  than  fools,  a  mystery. 

The  art  is  old  and  new,  for  verily 

All  ages  have  been  taught  the  matter, — 

By  Three  and  One,  and  One  and  Three, 

Error  instead  of  Truth  to  scatter. 

They  prate  and  teach,  and  no  one  interferes; 

All  from  the  fellowship  of  fools  are  shrinking. 

Man  usually  believes,  if  only  words  he  hears, 

That  also  with  them  goes  material  for  thinking! 

THE  WITCH  (continues} 

The  lofty  skill 

Of  Science,  still 

From  all  men  deeply  hidden! 

Who  takes  no  thought, 

To  him  'tis  brought, 

Tis  given  unsought,  unbidden! 

FAUST 

What  nonsense  she  declaims  before  us! 
My  head  is  nigh  to  split,  I  fear: 
It  seems  to  me  as  if  I  hear 
A  hundred  thousand  fools  in  chorus. 

133 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

O  Sibyl  excellent,  enough  of  adjuration! 

But  hither  bring  us  thy  potation, 

And  quickly  fill  the  beaker  to  the  brim! 

This  drink  will  bring  my  friend  no  injuries: 

He  is  a  man  of  manifold  degrees, 

And  many  draughts  are  known  to  him. 

(The  WITCH,  with  many  ceremonies,  pours  the  drin\  into  a 
cup;  as  FAUST  sets  it  to  his  lips,  a  light  flame  arises.) 

Down  with  it  quickly!    Drain  it  of!! 
'Twill  warm  thy  heart  with  new  desire: 
Art  with  the  Devil  hand  and  glove, 
And  wilt  thou  be  afraid  of  fire  ? 

(The  WITCH  breads  the  circle:  FAUST  steps  forth.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  now,  away!    Thou  dar'st  not  rest. 

THE    WITCH 

And  much  good  may  the  liquor  do  thee! 

MEPHISTOPHELES   (to  the  WITCH) 

Thy  wish  be  on  Walpurgis  Night  expressed; 
What  boon  I  have,  shall  then  be  given  unto  thee. 

THE  WITCH 

Here  is  a  song,  which,  if  you  sometimes  sing, 
You'll  find  it  of  peculiar  operation. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (tO  FAUST) 

Come,  walk  at  once!    A  rapid  occupation 

Must  start  the  needful  perspiration, 

And  through  thy  frame  the  liquor's  potence  fling. 

The  noble  indolence  I'll  teach  thee  then  to  treasure, 


jfaust 

And  soon  thou'lt  be  aware,  with  keenest  thrills  of  pleasure, 
How  Cupid  stirs  and  leaps,  on  light  and  restless  wing. 

FAUST 

One  rapid  glance  within  the  mirror  give  me, 
How  beautiful  that  woman-form! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

No,  no!    The  paragon  of  all,  believe  me, 
Thou  soon  shalt  see,  alive  and  warm. 

(Aside) 

Thou'lt  find,  this  drink  thy  blood  compelling, 
Each  woman  beautiful  as  Helen! 


135 


VII 
STREET 

FAUST      MARGARET    (fOSSing   by) 
FAUST 

FAIR  lady,  let  it  not  offend  you, 
That  arm  and  escort  I  would  lend  you! 

MARGARET 

I'm  neither  lady,  neither  fair, 

And  home  I  can  go  without  your  care. 

\She  releases  herself,  and  exit. 

FAUST 

By  Heaven,  the  girl  is  wondrous  fair! 
Of  all  I've  seen,  beyond  compare; 
So  sweetly  virtuous  and  pure, 
And  yet  a  little  pert,  be  sure! 
The  lip  so  red,  the  cheek's  clear  dawn, 


So  sweetly  virtuous  and  pure, 
And  yet  a  little  pert,  be  sure! 


JFaust 

111  not  forget  while  the  world  rolls  on! 
How  she  cast  down  her  timid  eyes, 
Deep  in  my  heart  imprinted  lies: 
How  short  and  sharp  of  speech  was  she, 
Why,  'twas  a  real  ecstasy! 

(MEPHISTOPHELES  enters) 

FAUST 
Hear,  of  that  girl  I'd  have  possession! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Which,  then? 

FAUST 
I 

The  one  who  just  went  by. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

She,  there?  She's  coming  from  confession, 
Of  every  sin  absolved;  for  I, 
Behind  her  chair,  was  listening  nigh. 
So  innocent  is  she,  indeed, 
That  to  confess  she  had  no  need. 
I  have  no  power  o'er  souls  so  green. 

FAUST 
And  yet,  she's  older  than  fourteen. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

How  now!  You're  talking  like  Jack  Rake, 
Who  every  flower  for  himself  would  take, 
And  fancies  there  are  no  favors  more, 
Nor  honors,  save  for  Him  in  store; 
Yet  always  doesn't  the  thing  succeed. 

FAUST 

Most  Worthy  Pedagogue,  take  heed! 
Let  not  a  word  of  moral  law  be  spoken! 

139 


JFatw 

I  claim,  I  tell  thee,  all  my  right; 
And  if  that  image  of  delight 
Rest  not  within  mine  arms  to-night, 
At  midnight  is  our  compact  broken. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  think,  the  chances  of  the  case! 
I  need,  at  least,  a  fortnight's  space, 
To  find  an  opportune  occasion. 

FAUST 

Had  I  but  seven  hours  for  all, 
I  should  not  on  the  Devil  call, 
But  win  her  by  my  own  persuasion. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

You  almost  like  a  Frenchman  prate; 
Yet,  pray,  don't  take  it  as  annoyance! 
Why,  all  at  once,  exhaust  the  joyance  ? 
Your  bliss  is  by  no  means  so  great 
As  if  you'd  use,  to  get  control, 
All  sorts  of  tender  rigmarole, 
And  knead  and  shape  her  to  your  thought, 
As  in  Italian  tales  'tis  taught. 

FAUST 
Without  that,  I  have  appetite. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  now,  leave  jesting  out  of  sight! 
I  tell  you,  once  for  all,  that  speed 
With  this  fair  girl  will  not  succeed; 
By  storm  she  cannot  captured  be; 
We  must  make  use  of  strategy. 

140 


FAUST 

Get  me  something  the  angel  keeps! 
Lead  me  thither  where  she  sleeps! 
Get  me  a  kerchief  from  her  breast, — 
A  garter  that  her  knee  has  pressed! 


That  you  may  see  how  much  I'd  fain 

Further  and  satisfy  your  pain, 

We  will  no  longer  lose  a  minute; 

I'll  find  her  room  to-day,  and  take  you  in  it. 

FAUST 
And  shall  I  see — possess  her? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

No! 

Unto  a  neighbor  she  must  go, 
And  meanwhile  thou,  alone,  mayst  glow 
With  every  hope  of  future  pleasure, 
Breathing  her  atmosphere  in  fullest  measure. 

FAUST 
Can  we  go  thither  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

'Tis  too  early  yet. 

FAUST 

A  gift  for  her  I  bid  thee  get! 

[Exit. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Presents  at  once?  That's  good:  he's  certain  to  get  at  her! 
Full  many  a  pleasant  place  I  know, 
And  treasures,  buried  long  ago: 

I  must,  perforce,  look  up  the  matter.  [Exit. 

141 


VIII 

EVENING 
A  SMALL,  NEATLY  KEPT  CHAMBER 

MARGARET 

{plaiting  and  binding  up  the  braids  of  her  hair) 

'T>  something  give,  could  I  but  say 
Who  was  that  gentleman,  to-day. 
•    Surely  a  gallant  man  was  he, 


And  of  a  noble  family; 

And  much  could  I  in  his  face  behold, — 

And  he  wouldn't,  else,  have  been  so  bold ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES      FAUST 
MEPHISTOPHELES 

Come  in,  but  gently:  follow  me! 

FAUST  (after  a  moment's  silence) 

Leave  me  alone,  I  beg  of  thee! 

142 


[Exit, 


MEPHISTOPHELES  {prying  about) 
Not  every  girl  keeps  things  so  neat. 

FAUST  (looking  around) 

0  welcome,  twilight  soft  and  sweet, 

That  breathes  throughout  this  hallowed  shrine! 

Sweet  pain  of  love,  bind  thou  with  fetters  fleet 

The  heart  that  on  the  dew  of  hope  must  pine! 

How  all  around  a  sense  impresses 

Of  quiet,  order,  and  content! 

This  poverty  what  bounty  blesses! 

What  bliss  within  this  narrow  den  is  pent! 

(He  throws  himself  into  a  leathern  arm-chair  near  the  bed.) 

Receive  me,  thou,  that  in  thine  open  arms 
Departed  joy  and  pain  wert  wont  to  gather! 
How  oft  the  children,  with  their  ruddy  charms, 
Hung  here,  around  this  throne,  where  sat  the  father! 
Perchance  my  love,  amid  the  childish  band, 
Grateful  for  gifts  the  Holy  Christmas  gave  her, 
Here  meekly  kissed  the  grandsire's  withered  hand. 

1  feel,  O  maid !  thy  very  soul 

Of  order  and  content  around  me  whisper, — 

Which  leads  thee  with  its  motherly  control, 

The  cloth  upon  thy  board  bids  smoothly  thee  unroll, 

The  sand  beneath  thy  feet  makes  whiter,  crisper. 

O  dearest  hand,  to  thee  'tis  given 

To  change  this  hut  into  a  lower  heaven! 

And  here! 

(He  lifts  one  of  the  bed-curtains?) 

What  sweetest  thrill  is  in  my  blood! 
Here  could  I  spend  whole  hours,  delaying: 
Here  Nature  shaped,  as  if  in  sportive  playing, 
The  angel  blossom  from  the  bud. 

143 


Here  lay  the  child,  with  Life's  warm  essence 

The  tender  bosom  filled  and  fair, 

And  here  was  wrought,  through  holier,  purer  presence, 

The  form  diviner  beings  wear! 

And  I?    What  drew  me  here  with  power? 
How  deeply  am  I  moved,  this  hour! 
What  seek  I  ?    Why  so  full  my  heart,  and  sore? 
Miserable  Faust!    I  know  thee  now  no  more. 

Is  there  a  magic  vapor  here  ? 

I  came,  with  lust  of  instant  pleasure, 

And  lie  dissolved  in  dreams  of  love's  sweet  leisure! 

Are  we  the  sport  of  every  changeful  atmosphere? 

And  if,  this  moment,  came  she  in  to  me, 
How  would  I  for  the  fault  atonement  render! 
How  small  the  giant  lout  would  be, 
Prone  at  her  feet,  relaxed  and  tender! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Be  quick!    I  see  her  there,  returning. 

FAUST 
Go!  go!  I  never  will  retreat. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Here  is  a  casket,  not  unmeet, 
Which  elsewhere  I  have  just  been  earning. 
Here,  set  it  in  the  press,  with  haste! 
I  swear,  'twill  turn  her  head,  to  spy  it: 
Some  baubles  I  therein  had  placed, 
That  you  might  win  another  by  it. 
True,  child  is  child,  and  play  is  play. 

FAUST 

I  know  not,  should  I  do  it  ? 

144 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ask  you,  pray  ? 

Yourself,  perhaps,  would  keep  the  bubble? 
Then  I  suggest,  'twere  fair  and  just 
To  spare  the  lovely  day  your  lust, 
And  spare  to  me  the  further  trouble. 
You  are  not  miseily,  I  trust? 
I  rub  my  hands,  in  expectation  tender — 

(He  places  the  casket  in  the  press,  and  loc^s  it  again.) 

Now  quick,  away! 

The  sweet  young  maiden  to  betray, 

So  that  by  wish  and  will  you  bend  her; 

And  you  look  as  though 

To  the  lecture-hall  you  were  forced  to  go, — 

As  if  stood  before  you,  gray  and  loath, 

Physics  and  Metaphysics  both! 

But  away!  {Exeunt. 

MARGARET  (with  a  lamp) 
It  is  so  close,  so  sultry,  here! 

(She  opens  the  window) 

And  yet  'tis  not  so  warm  outside. 
I  feel,  I  know  not  why,  such  fear! — 
Would  mother  came! — where  can  she  bide? 
My  body's  chill  and  shuddering, — 
I'm  but  a  silly,  fearsome  thing! 

(She  begins  to  sing,  while  undressing) 

There  was  a  King  in  Thule, 
Was  faithful  till  the  grave, — 
To  whom  his  mistress,  dying, 
A  golden  goblet  gave. 

Naught  was  to  him  more  precious; 
He  drained  it  at  every  bout: 


JFaust 

His  eyes  with  tears  ran  over, 
As  oft  as  he  drank  thereout. 

When  came  his  time  of  dying, 
The  towns  in  his  land  he  told, 
Naught  else  to  his  heir  denying 
Except  the  goblet  of  gold. 

He  sat  at  the  royal  banquet 
With  his  knights  of  high  degree, 
In  the  lofty  hall  of  his  fathers 
In  the  Castle  by  the  Sea. 

There  stood  the  old  carouser, 
And  drank  the  last  life-glow; 
And  hurled  the  hallowed  goblet 
Into  the  tide  below. 

He  saw  it  plunging  and  filling, 
And  sinking  deep  in  the  sea: 
Then  fell  his  eyelids  forever, 
And  never  more  drank  he! 

(She  opens  the  press  in  order  to  arrange  her  clothes,  and  per- 
ceives the  casket  of  jewels.} 

How  comes  that  lovely  casket  here  to  me? 
I  locked  the  press,  most  certainly. 
Tis  truly  wonderful !  What  can  within  it  be  ? 
Perhaps  'twas  brought  by  some  one  as  a  pawn, 
And  mother  gave  a  loan  thereon? 
And  here  there  hangs  a  key  to  fit: 
I  have  a  mind  to  open  it. 

What  is  that?    God  in  Heaven!    Whence  came 
Such  things?    Never  beheld  I  aught  so  fair! 
Rich  ornaments,  such  as  a  noble  dame 
On  highest  holidays  might  wear! 

146 


How  would  the  pearl-chain  suit  my  hair  ? 
Ah,  who  may  all  this  splendor  own  ? 

(She  adorns  herself  with  the  jewelry,  and  steps  before  the 

mirror.) 

Were  but  the  ear-rings  mine,  alone! 

One  has  at  once  another  air. 

What  helps  one's  beauty,  youthful  blood? 

One  may  possess  them,  well  and  good; 

But  none  the  more  do  others  care. 

They  praise  us  half  in  pity,  sure: 

To  gold  still  tends, 

On  gold  depends 

All,  all!  Alas,  we  poor! 


IX 


PROMENADE 


(FAUST,  wedding  thoughtfully  up  and  down.    To  him  MEPHIS- 

TOPHELES.) 


MEPHISTOPHELES 


B 


Y  all  love  ever  rejected!    By  hell-fire  hot  and  unsparing! 
I  wish  I  knew  something  worse,  that  I  might  use  it  for 
swearing! 


FAUST 


What  ails  thee?    What  is't  gripes  thee,  elf? 
A  face  like  thine  beheld  I  never. 


MEPHISTOPHELES 


I  would  myself  unto  the  Devil  deliver, 
If  I  were  not  a  Devil  myself! 


FAUST 


Thy  head  is  out  of  order,  sadly: 
It  much  becomes  thee  to  be  raving  madly. 

148 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

Just  think,  the  pocket  of  a  priest  should  get 

The  trinkets  left  for  Margaret! 

The  mother  saw  them,  and,  instanter, 

A  secret  dread  began  to  haunt  her. 

Keen  scent  has  she  for  tainted  air; 

She  snuffs  within  her  book  of  prayer, 

And  smells  each  article,  to  see 

If  sacred  or  profane  it  be; 

So  here  she  guessed,  from  every  gem, 

That  not  much  blessing  came  with  them. 

"My  child,"  she  said,  "ill-gotten  good 

Ensnares  the  soul,  consumes  the  blood. 

Before  the  Mother  of  God  we'll  lay  it; 

With  heavenly  manna  she'll  repay  it!" 

But  Margaret  thought,  with  sour  grimace, 

"A  gift-horse  is  not  out  of  place, 

And,  truly!  godless  cannot  be 

The  one  who  brought  such  things  to  me." 

A  parson  came,  by  the  mother  bidden: 

He  saw,  at  once,  where  the  game  was  hidden, 

And  viewed  it  with  a  favor  stealthy. 

He  spake:  "That  is  the  proper  view, — 

Who  overcometh,  winneth  too. 

The  Holy  Church  has  a  stomach  healthy: 

Hath  eaten  many  a  land  as  forfeit, 

And  never  yet  complained  of  surfeit: 

The  Church  alone,  beyond  all  question, 

Has  for  ill-gotten  goods  the  right  digestion." 

FAUST 

A  general  practice  is  the  same, 
Which  Jew  and  King  may  also  claim. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Then  bagged  the  spangles,  chains,  and  rings, 
As  if  but  toadstools  were  the  things, 

149 


And  thanked  no  less,  and  thanked  no  more 
Than  if  a  sack  of  nuts  he  bore, — 
Promised  them  fullest  heavenly  pay, 
And  deeply  edified  were  they. 

FAUST 
And  Margaret? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Sits  unrestful  still, 

And  knows  not  what  she  should,  or  will; 
Thinks  on  the  jewels,  day  and  night, 
But  more  on  him  who  gave  her  such  delight. 

FAUST 

The  darling's  sorrow  gives  me  pain. 
Get  thou  a  set  for  her  again! 
The  first  was  not  a  great  display. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

O  yes,  the  gentleman  finds  it  all  child's-play! 

FAUST 

Fix  and  arrange  it  to  my  will; 
And  on  her  neighbor  try  thy  skill! 
Don't  be  a  Devil  stiff  as  paste, 
But  get  fresh  jewels  to  her  taste! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yes,  gracious  Sir,  in  all  obedience! 

[Exit  FAUST. 

Such  an  enamored  fool  in  air  would  blow 
Sun,  moon,  and  all  the  starry  legions, 
To  give  his  sweetheart  a  diverting  show. 

[Exit. 

150 


X 

THE  NEIGHBOR'S  HOUSE 

MARTHA   (solus) 

/f    ^\  OD  forgive  my  husband,  yet  he 

(l     -yr  Hasn't  done  his  duty  by  me! 

^w>^    Off  in  the  world  he  went  straightway,- 

Left  me  lie  in  the  straw  where  I  lay, 

And,  truly,  I  did  naught  to  fret  him: 

God  knows  I  loved,  and  can't  forget  him! 

(She  weeps.) 

Perhaps  he's  even  dead!    Ah,  woe! — 
Had  I  a  certificate  to  show! 


Dame  Martha! 


MARGARET   (comes) 
MARTHA 

Margaret!  what's  happened  thee? 

MARGARET 

I  scarce  can  stand,  my  knees  are  trembling! 
I  find  a  box,  the  first  resembling, 


JFaust 

Within  my  press!    Of  ebony,  — 
And  things,  all  splendid  to  behold, 
And  richer  far  than  were  the  old. 

MARTHA 

You  mustn't  tell  it  to  your  mother! 
'Twould  go  to  the  priest,  as  did  the  other. 

MARGARET 

Ah,  look  and  see  —  just  look  and  see! 

MARTHA  (adorning  her) 
O,  what  a  blessed  luck  for  thee! 

MARGARET 

But,  ah  !  in  the  streets  I  dare  not  bear  them, 
Nor  in  the  church  be  seen  to  wear  them. 

MARTHA 

Yet  thou  canst  often  this  way  wander, 

And  secretly  the  jewels  don, 

Walk  up  and  down  an  hour,  before  the  mirror  yonder,  — 

We'll  have  our  private  joy  thereon. 

And  then  a  chance  will  come,  a  holiday, 

When,  piece  by  piece,  can  one  the  things  abroad  display, 

A  chain  at  first,  then  other  ornament: 

Thy  mother  will  not  see,  and  stories  we'll  invent. 

MARGARET 

Whoever  could  have  brought  me  things  so  precious  ? 
That  something's  wrong,  I  feel  suspicious. 


(A 
Good  Heaven!    My  mother  can  that  have  been? 

MARTHA  (peeping  through  the  blind) 

'Tis  some  strange  gentleman.  —  Come  in! 

152 


(MEPHISTOPHELES  enters.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

That  I  so  boldly  introduce  me, 
I  beg  you,  ladies,  to  excuse  me. 

(Steps  bac\  reverently,  on  seeing  MARGARET.) 
For  Martha  Schwerdtlein  I'd  inquire! 

MARTHA 

I'm  she:  what  does  the  gentleman  desire? 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aside  to  her) 

It  is  enough  that  you  are  she: 
You've  a  visitor  of  high  degree. 
Pardon  the  freedom  I  have  ta'en, — 
Will  after  noon  return  again. 

MARTHA    (aloud) 

Of  all  things  in  the  world !    Just  hear — 
He  takes  thce  for  a  lady,  dear! 

MARGARET 

I  am  a  creature  young  and  poor: 
The  gentleman's  too  kind,  I'm  sure. 
The  jewels  don't  belong  to  me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ah,  not  alone  the  jewelry! 

The  look,  the  manner,  both  betray — 

Rejoiced  am  I  that  I  may  stay! 

MARTHA 

What  is  your  business?  I  would  fain — 

153 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  would  I  had  a  more  cheerful  strain! 

Take  not  unkindly  its  repeating: 

Your  husband's  dead,  and  sends  a  greeting. 

MARTHA 

Is  dead ?    Alas,  that  heart  so  true! 
My  husband  dead !  Let  me  die,  too! 

MARGARET 

Ah,  dearest  dame,  let  not  your  courage  fail! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Hear  me  relate  the  mournful  tale! 

MARGARET 

Therefore  I'd  never  love,  believe  me! 
A  loss  like  this  to  death  would  grieve  me. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Joy  follows  woe,  woe  after  joy  comes  flying. 

MARTHA 

Relate  his  life's  sad  close  to  me! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  Padua  buried,  he  is  lying 
Beside  the  good  Saint  Antony, 
Within  a  grave  well  consecrated, 
For  cool,  eternal  rest  created. 

MARTHA 

He  gave  you,  further,  no  commission  ? 

154 


JFaust 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yes,  one  of  weight,  with  many  sighs : 

Three  hundred  masses  buy,  to  save  him  from  perdition! 

My  hands  are  empty,  otherwise. 

MARTHA 

What!    Not  a  pocket-piece?  no  jewelry? 
What  every  journeyman  within  his  wallet  spares, 
And  as  a  token  with  him  bears, 
And  rather  starves  or  begs,  than  loses? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Madam,  it  is  a  grief  to  me; 

Yet,  on  my  word,  his  cash  was  put  to  proper  uses. 

Besides,  his  penitence  was  very  sore, 

And  he  lamented  his  ill  fortune  all  the  more. 

MARGARET 

Alack,  that  men  are  so  unfortunate! 

Surely  for  his  soul's  sake  full  many  a  prayer  I'll  proffer. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

You  well  deserve  a  speedy  marriage-offer: 
You  are  so  kind,  compassionate. 

MARGARET 

O,  no!    As  yet,  it  would  not  do. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

If  not  a  husband,  then  a  beau  for  you! 

It  is  the  greatest  heavenly  blessing, 

To  have  a  dear  thing  for  one's  caressing. 

MARGARET 

The  country's  custom  is  not  so. 

155 


JFaust 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Custom,  or  not!    It  happens,  though. 

MARTHA 

Continue,  pray! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  stood  beside  his  bed  of  dying. 
'Twas  something  better  than  manure, — 
Half-rotten  straw:  and  yet,  he  died  a  Christian,  sure, 
And  found  that  heavier  scores  to  his  account  were  lying. 
He  cried:  "I  find  my  conduct  wholly  hateful! 
To  leave  my  wife,  my  trade,  in  manner  so  ungrateful! 
Ah,  the  remembrance  makes  me  die! 
Would  of  my  wrong  to  her  I  might  be  shriven!" 

MARTHA  (weeping) 
The  dear,  good  man!    Long  since  was  he  forgiven. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

"Yet  she,  God  knows!  was  more  to  blame  than  I." 

MARTHA 

He  lied!    What!    On  the  brink  of  death  he  slandered? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

In  the  last  throes  his  senses  wandered, 

If  I  such  things  but  half  can  judge. 

He  said:  "I  had  no  time  for  play,  for  gaping  freedom: 

First  children,  and  then  work  for  bread  to  feed  'em, — 

For  bread,  in  the  widest  sense,  to  drudge, 

And  could  not  even  eat  my  share  in  peace  and  quiet!" 

MARTHA 

Had  he  all  love,  all  faith  forgotten  in  his  riot? 
My  work  and  worry,  day  and  night? 

156 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

Not  so:  the  memory  of  it  touched  him  quite. 

Said  he:  "When  I  from  Malta  went  away 

My  prayers  for  wife  and  little  ones  were  zealous, 

And  such  a  luck  from  Heaven  befell  us, 

We  made  a  Turkish  merchantman  our  prey, 

That  to  the  Soldan  bore  a  mighty  treasure. 

Then  I  received,  as  was  most  fit, 

Since  bravery  was  paid  in  fullest  measure, 

My  well-apportioned  share  of  it." 

MARTHA 

Say,  how  ?    Say,  where  ?    If  buried,  did  he  own  it  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Who  knows,  now,  whither  the  four  winds  have  blown  it? 
A  fair  young  damsel  took  him  in  her  care, 
As  he  in  Naples  wandered  round,  unfriended ; 
And  she  much  love,  much  faith  to  him  did  bear, 
So  that  he  felt  it  till  his  days  were  ended. 

MARTHA 

The  villain!    From  his  children  thieving! 

Even  all  the  misery  on  him  cast 

Could  not  prevent  his  shameful  way  of  living! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  see!    He's  dead  therefrom,  at  last. 

Were  I  in  your  place,  do  not  doubt  me, 

I'd  mourn  him  decently  a  year, 

And  for  another  keep,  meanwhile,  my  eyes  about  me. 

MARTHA 

Ah,  God!  another  one  so  dear 
As  was  my  first,  this  world  will  hardly  give  me. 

157 


There  never  was  a  sweeter  fool  than  mine, 
Only  he  loved  to  roam  and  leave  me, 
And  foreign  wenches  and  foreign  wine, 
And  the  damned  throw  of  dice,  indeed. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Well,  well !    That  might  have  done,  however, 

If  he  had  only  been  as  clever, 

And  treated  your  slips  with  as  little  heed. 

I  swear,  with  this  condition,  too, 

I  would,  myself,  change  rings  with  you. 

MARTHA 

The  gentleman  is  pleased  to  jest. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aside) 

I'll  cut  away,  betimes,  from  here: 
She'd  take  the  Devil  at  his  word,  I  fear. 

(To  MARGARET) 
How  fares  the  heart  within  your  breast? 

MARGARET 

What  means  the  gentleman  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aside) 

Sweet  innocent,  thou  art! 

(Aloud.) 
Ladies,  farewell! 

MARGARET 

Farewell ! 

MARTHA 

A  moment,  ere  we  part! 
I'd  like  to  have  a  legal  witness, 

Where,  how,  and  when  he  died,  to  certify  his  fitness. 

158 


JFaiw 

Irregular  ways  I've  always  hated; 

I  want  his  death  in  the  weekly  paper  stated. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yes,  my  good  dame,  a  pair  of  witnesses 

Always  the  truth  establishes. 

I  have  a  friend  of  high  condition, 

Who'll  also  add  his  deposition. 

I'll  bring  him  here. 

MARTHA 

Good  Sir,  pray  do! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  this  young  lady  will  be  present,  too? 
A  gallant  youth!  has  travelled  far: 
Ladies  with  him  delighted  are. 

MARGARET 

Before  him  I  should  blush,  ashamed. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Before  no  king  that  could  be  named! 

MARTHA 

Behind  the  house,  in  my  garden,  then, 
This  eve  we'll  expect  the  gentlemen. 


XI 
A  STREET 

FAUST      MEPHISTOPHELES 
FAUST 

OW  is  it  ?  under  way  ?  and  soon  complete  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ah,  bravo!    Do  I  find  you  burning? 

Well,  Margaret  soon  will  still  your  yearning: 

At  Neighbor  Martha's  you'll  this  evening  meet. 

A  fitter  woman  ne'er  was  made 

To  ply  the  pimp  and  gypsy  trade! 


Tis  well. 


FAUST 
MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yet  something  is  required  from  us. 


FAUST 

One  service  pays  the  other  thus. 

1 60 


MEPHISTOPHELES 


We've  but  to  make  a  deposition  valid 

That  now  her  husband's  limbs,  outstretched  and  pallid, 

At  Padua  rest,  in  consecrated  soil. 


FAUST 


Most  wise!    And  first,  of  course,  we'll  make  the  journey 
thither? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Sancta  simplicitas!  no  need  of  such  a  toil; 
Depose,  with  knowledge  or  without  it,  either! 

FAUST 
If  you've  naught  better,  then,  I'll  tear  your  pretty  plan! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now,  there  you  are!    O  holy  man! 

Is  it  the  first  time  in  your  life  you're  driven 

To  'bear  false  witness  in  a  case? 

Of  God,  the  world  and  all  that  in  it  has  a  place, 

Of  Man,  and  all  that  moves  the  being  of  his  race, 

Have  you  not  terms  and  definitions  given 

With  brazen  forehead,  daring  breast  ? 

And,  if  you'll  probe  the  thing  profoundly, 

Knew  you  so  much  —  and  you'll  confess  it  roundly!  — 

As  here  of  Schwerdtlein's  death  and  place  of  rest? 

FAUST 
Thou  art,  and  thou  remain'st,  a  sophist,  liar. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yes,  knew  I  not  more  deeply  thy  desire. 
For  wilt  thou  not,  no  lover  fairer, 
Poor  Margaret  flatter,  and  ensnare  her, 
And  all  thy  soul's  devotion  swear  her? 

161 


FAUST 

And  from  my  heart. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Tis  very  fine! 

Thine  endless  love,  thy  faith  assuring, 
The  one  almighty  force  enduring, — 
Will  that,  too,  prompt  this  heart  of  thine  ? 

FAUST 

Hold!  hold!    It  will!— If  such  my  flame, 
And  for  the  sense  and  power  intense 
I  seek,  and  cannot  find,  a  name; 
Then  range  with  all  my  senses  through  creation, 
Craving  the  speech  of  inspiration, 
And  call  this  ardor,  so  supernal, 
Endless,  eternal  and  eternal, — 
Is  that  a  devilish  lying  game? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  yet  I'm  right! 

FAUST 

Mark  this,  I  beg  of  thee! 
And  spare  my  lungs  henceforth:  whoever 
Intends  to  have  the  right,  if  but  his 

tongue  be  clever, 
Will  have  it,  certainly. 
But  come:  the  further  talking  brings 

disgust, 
For  thou  art  right,  especially  since  I 

must. 


XII 
GARDEN 

(MARGARET  on  FAUST'S  arm.     MARTHA  and  MEPHISTOPHELES 

walking  up  and  down.) 

MARGARET 

FEEL,  the  gentleman  allows  for  me, 

Demeans  himself,  and  shames  me  by  it; 

A  traveller  is  so  used  to  be 
Kindly  content  with  any  diet. 
I  know  too  well  that  my  poor  gossip  can 
Ne'er  entertain  such  an  experienced  man. 

FAUST 

A  look  from  thee,  a  word,  more  entertains 
Than  all  the  lore  of  wisest  brains. 

(He  fysses  her  hand.) 

MARGARET 

Don't  incommode  yourself!    How  could  you  ever  kiss  it! 
It  is  so  ugly,  rough  to  see! 

163 


JFau0t 

What  work  I  do, — how  hard  and  steady  is  it! 
Mother  is  much  too  close  with  me. 

[They  pass. 

MARTHA 

And  you,  Sir,  travel  always,  do  you  not  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Alas,  that  trade  and  duty  us  so  harry ! 

With  what  a  pang  one  leaves  so  many  a  spot, 

And  dares  not  even  now  and  then  to  tarry ! 

MARTHA 

In  young,  wild  years  it  suits  your  ways, 

This  round  and  round  the  world  in  freedom  sweeping; 

But  then  come  on  the  evil  days, 

And  so,  as  bachelor,  into  his  grave  a-creeping, 

None  ever  found  a  thing  to  praise. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  dread  to  see  how  such  a  fate  advances. 

MARTHA 

Then,  worthy  Sir,  improve  betimes  your  chances! 

[They  pass. 

MARGARET 

Yes,  out  of  sight  is  out  of  mind ! 
Your  courtesy  an  easy  grace  is; 
But  you  have  friends  in  other  places, 
And  sensibler  than  I,  you'll  find. 

FAUST 

Trust  me,  dear  heart!  what  men  call  sensible 
Is  oft  mere  vanity  and  narrowness. 

MARGARET 

How  so  ? 
164 


JFaust 

FAUST 

Ah,  that  simplicity  and  innocence  ne'er  know 
Themselves,  their  holy  value,  and  their  spell! 
That  meekness,  lowliness,  the  highest  graces 
Which  Nature  portions  out  so  lovingly — 

MARGARET 

So  you  but  think  a  moment's  space  on  me, 
All  times  I'll  have  to  think  on  you,  all  places! 

FAUST 
No  doubt  you're  much  alone? 

MARGARET 

Yes,  for  our  household  small  has  grown, 

Yet  must  be  cared  for,  you  will  own. 

We  have  no  maid:  I  do  the  knitting,  sewing,  sweeping, 

The  cooking,  early  work  and  late,  in  fact; 

And  mother,  in  her  notions  of  housekeeping, 

Is  so  exact! 

Not  that  she  needs  so  much  to  keep  expenses  down: 

We,  more  than  others,  might  take  comfort,  rather: 

A  nice  estate  was  left  us  by  my  father, 

A  house,  a  little  garden  near  the  town. 

But  now  my  days  have  less  of  noise  and  hurry; 

My  brother  is  a  soldier, 

My  little  sister's  dead. 

True,  with  the  child  a  troubled  life  I  led, 

Yet  I  would  take  again,  and  willing,  all  the  worry, 

So  very  dear  was  she. 

FAUST 

An  angel,  if  like  thee! 

165 


Jfaust 

MARGARET 

I  brought  it  up,  and  it  was  fond  of  me* 

Father  had  died  before  it  saw  the  light, 

And  mother's  case  seemed  hopeless  quite, 

So  weak  and  miserable  she  lay; 

And  she  recovered,  then,  so  slowly,  day  by  day. 

She  could  not  think,  herself,  of  giving 

The  poor  wee  thing  its  natural  living; 

And  so  I  nursed  it  all  alone 

With  milk  and  water:  'twas  my  own. 

Lulled  in  my  lap  with  many  a  song, 

It  smiled,  and  tumbled,  and  grew  strong. 

FAUST 
The  purest  bliss  was  surely  then  thy  dower. 

MARGARET 

But  surely,  also,  many  a  weary  hour. 

I  kept  the  baby's  cradle  near 

My  bed  at  night:  if  't  even  stirred,  I'd  guess  it, 

And  waking,  hear. 

And  I  must  nurse  it,  warm  beside  me  press  it, 

And  oft,  to  quiet  it,  my  bed  forsake, 

And  dandling  back  and  forth  the  restless  creature  take, 

Then  at  the  wash-tub  stand,  at  morning's  break; 

And  then  the  marketing  and  kitchen-tending, 

Day  after  day,  the  same  thing,  never-ending. 

One's  spirits,  Sir,  are  thus  not  always  good, 

But  then  one  learns  to  relish  rest  and  food. 

[They  pass. 

MARTHA 

Yes,  the  poor  women  are  bad  off,  'tis  true: 
A  stubborn  bachelor  there's  no  converting. 

166 


JFaust 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

It  but  depends  upon  the  like  of  you, 

And  I  should  turn  to  better  ways  than  flirting. 

MARTHA 

Speak  plainly,  Sir,  have  you  no  one  detected  ? 
Has  not  your  heart  been  anywhere  subjected? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  proverb  says:  One's  own  warm  hearth 
And  a  good  wife,  are  gold  and  jewels  worth. 

MARTHA 

I  mean,  have  you  not  felt  desire,  though  ne'er  so  slightly? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I've  everywhere,  in  fact,  been  entertained  politely. 

MARTHA 

I  meant  to  say,  were  you  not  touched  in  earnest,  ever? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

One  should  allow  one's  self  to  jest  with  ladies  never. 

MARTHA 

Ah,  you  don't  understand! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I'm  sorry  I'm  so  blind: 
But  I  am  sure — that  you  are  very  kind. 

[They  pass. 
FAUST 

And  me,  thou  angel!  didst  thou  recognize, 
As  through  the  garden-gate  I  came? 

167 


MARGARET 

Did  you  not  see  it  ?  I  cast  down  my  eyes. 

FAUST 

And  thou  forgiv'st  my  freedom,  and  the  blame 

To  my  impertinence  befitting, 

As  the  Cathedral  thou  wert  quitting? 

MARGARET 

I  was  confused,  the  like  ne'er  happened  me; 
No  one  could  ever  speak  to  my  discredit. 
Ah,  thought  I,  in  my  conduct  has  he  read  it — 
Something  immodest  or  unseemly  free  ? 
He  seemed  to  have  the  sudden  feeling 
That  with  this  wench  'twere  very  easy  dealing. 
I  will  confess,  I  knew  not  what  appeal 
On  your  behalf,  here,  in  my  bosom  grew; 
But  I  was  angry  with  myself,  to  feel 
That  I  could  not  be  angrier  with  you. 

FAUST 
Sweet  darling! 

MARGARET 

Wait  a  while! 

(She  plucks  a  star-flower,  and  pulls  off  the  leaves,  one  after 

the  other.) 

FAUST 

Shall  that  a  nosegay  be? 

MARGARET 

No,  it  is  just  in  play. 

FAUST 

How? 

168 


JFaust 

MARGARET 

Go!  you'll  laugh  at  me. 
(She  pulls  off  the  leaves  and  murmurs?) 

FAUST 
What  murmurest  thou  ? 

MARGARET  (half  aloud} 

He  loves  me — loves  me  not. 

FAUST 
Thou  sweet,  angelic  soul! 

MARGARET  (continues) 
Loves  me — not — loves  me — not — 

(plucking  the  last  leaf,  she  cries  with  fran]^  delight:} 

He  loves  me! 

FAUST 

Yes,  child !  and  let  this  blossom-word 
For  thee  be  speech  divine!    He  loves  thee! 
Ah,  know'st  thou  what  it  means?    He  loves  thee! 

(He  grasps  both  her  hands.) 

MARGARET 

I'm  all  a-tremble! 

FAUST 

O  tremble  not!  but  let  this  look, 
Let  this  warm  clasp  of  hands  declare  thee 
What  is  unspeakable! 
To  yield  one  wholly,  and  to  feel  a  rapture 
In  yielding,  that  must  be  eternal! 
Eternal! — for  the  end  would  be  despair. 
No,  no, — no  ending!  no  ending! 

169 


MARTHA  (coming  forward) 
The  night  is  falling. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Ay!  we  must  away. 

MARTHA 

I'd  ask  you,  longer  here  to  tarry, 

But  evil  tongues  in  this  town  have  full  play. 

It's  as  if  nobody  had  nothing  to  fetch  and  carry, 

Nor  other  labor, 

But  spying  all  the  doings  of  one's  neighbor: 

And  one  becomes  the  talk,  do  whatsoe'er  one  may. 

Where  is  our  couple  now  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Flown  up  the  alley  yonder, 


The  wilful  summer-birds! 


MARTHA 

He  seems  of  her  still  fonder. 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  she  of  him.    So  runs  the  world  away! 


170 


XIII 

A  GARDEN-ARBOR 

(MARGARET  comes  in,  conceals  herself  behind  the  door,  puts  her 
finger  to  her  lips,  and  peeps  through  the 

MARGARET 

'E  comes! 


FAUST  (entering) 

Ah,  rogue!  a  tease  thou  art: 
I  have  thee! 

(He  fysses  her.) 

.i. 

MARGARET 

(clasping  him,  and  returning  the  fyss) 
Dearest  man!  I  love  thee  from  my  heart. 

(MEPHISTOPHELES  knocks) 

FAUST  (stamping  his  foot) 
Who's  there? 

171 


jfaust 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  friend! 

FAUST 

A  beast! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Tis  time  to  separate. 

MARTHA  (coming) 
Yes,  Sir,  'tis  late. 

FAUST 

May  I  not,  then,  upon  you  wait  ? 

MARGARET 

My  mother  would — farewell! 

FAUST 

Ah,  can  I  not  remain? 
Farewell! 

MARTHA 

Adieu! 

MARGARET 

And  soon  to  meet  again! 

[Exeunt  FAUST  and  MEPHISTOPHELES. 

MARGARET 

Dear  God!    However  is  it,  such 
A  man  can  think  and  know  so  much  ? 
I  stand  ashamed  and  in  amaze, 
And  answer  "Yes"  to  all  he  says, 
A  poor,  unknowing  child !  and  he — 

I  can't  think  what  he  finds  in  me !  [Exit. 

172 


xrv 

FOREST  AND  CAVERN 

FAUST  (solus) 

PIRIT  sublime,  thou  gav'st  me,  gav'st  me  all 
For  which  I  prayed.    Not  unto  me  in  vain 
Hast  thou  thy  countenance  revealed  in  fire. 
Thou  gav'st  me  Nature  as  a  kingdom  grand, 
With  power  to  feel  and  to  enjoy  it.    Thou 
Not  only  cold,  amazed  acquaintance  yield'st, 
But  grantest,  that  in  her  profoundest  breast 
I  gaze,  as  in  the  bosom  of  a  friend. 
The  ranks  of  living  creatures  thou  dost  lead 
Before  me,  teaching  me  to  know  my  brothers 
In  air  and  water  and  the  silent  wood. 
And  when  the  storm  in  forests  roars  and  grinds, 
The  giant  firs,  in  falling,  neighbor  boughs 
And  neighbor  trunks  with  crushing  weight  bear  down, 
And  falling,  fill  the  hills  with  hollow  thunders, — 
Then  to  the  cave  secure  thou  leadest  me, 
Then  show'st  me  mine  own  self,  and  in  my  breast 

173 


The  deep,  mysterious  miracles  unfold. 
And  when  the  perfect  moon  before  my  gaze 
Comes  up  with  soothing  light,  around  me  float 
From  every  precipice  and  thicket  damp 
The  silvery  phantoms  of  the  ages  past, 
And  temper  the  austere  delight  of  thought. 

That  nothing  can  be  perfect  unto  Man 
I  now  am  conscious.    With  this  ecstasy, 
Which  brings  me  near  and  nearer  to  the  Gods, 
Thou  gav'st  the  comrade,  whom  I  now  no  more 
Can  do  without,  though,  cold  and  scornful,  he 
Demeans  me  to  myself,  and  with  a  breath, 
A  word,  transforms  thy  gifts  to  nothingness. 
Within  my  breast  he  fans  a  lawless  fire, 
Unwearied,  for  that  fair  and  lovely  form: 
Thus  in  desire  I  hasten  to  enjoyment, 
And  in  enjoyment  pine  to  feel  desire. 

(MEPHISTOPHELES  enters.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Have  you  not  led  this  life  quite  long  enough  ? 
How  can  a  further  test  delight  you? 
'Tis  very  well,  that  once  one  tries  the  stuff, 
But  something  new  must  then  requite  you. 

FAUST 

Would  there  were  other  work  for  thee! 
To  plague  my  day  auspicious  thou  returnest. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Well!  I'll  engage  to  let  thee  be: 
Thou  darest  not  tell  me  so  in  earnest. 
The  loss  of  thee  were  truly  very  slight, — 
A  comrade  crazy,  rude,  repelling: 

174 


•*  I  • 

-  .\.,- 

'       $ 


53pS=5^3g..*%Jj 


3**t. 


mx 


One  has  one's  hands  full  all  the  day  and  night; 
If  what  one  does,  or  leaves  undone,  is  right, 
From  such  a  face  as  thine  there  is  no  telling. 

FAUST 

There  is,  again,  thy  proper  tone! — 

That  thou  hast  bored  me,  I  must  thankful  be! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Poor  Son  of  Earth,  how  couldst  thou  thus  alone 

Have  led  thy  life,  bereft  of  me  ? 

I,  for  a  time,  at  least,  have  worked  thy  cure; 

Thy  fancy's  rickets  plague  thee  not  at  all: 

Had  I  not  been,  so  hadst  thou,  sure, 

Walked  thyself  off  this  earthly  ball. 

Why  here  to  caverns,  rocky  hollows  slinking, 

Sit'st  thou,  as  'twere  an  owl  a-blinking? 

Why  suck'st,  from  sodden  moss  and  dripping  stone, 

Toad-like,  thy  nourishment  alone? 

A  fine  way,  this,  thy  time  to  fill! 

The  Doctor's  in  thy  body  still. 

FAUST 

What  fresh  and  vital  forces,  canst  thou  guess, 

Spring  from  my  commerce  with  the  wilderness  ? 

But,  if  thou  hadst  the  power  of  guessing, 

Thou  wouldst  be  devil  enough  to  grudge  my  soul  the  blessing. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  blessing  drawn  from  supernatural  fountains! 
In  night  and  dew  to  lie  upon  die  mountains; 
All  Heaven  and  Earth  in  rapture  penetrating; 
Thyself  to  Godhood  haughtily  inflating; 
To  grub  with  yearning  force  through  Earth's  dark  marrow, 
Compress  the  six  days'  work  within  thy  bosom  narrow, — 

177 


JFaust 

To  taste,  I  know  not  what,  in  haughty  power, 
Thine  own  ecstatic  life  on  all  things  shower, 
Thine  earthly  self  behind  thee  cast, 
And  then  the  lofty  instinct,  thus — 

(With  a  gesture:) 

at  last, — 
I  daren't  say  how — to  pluck  the  final  flower! 

FAUST 
Shame  on  thee! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yes,  thou  findest  that  unpleasant! 

Thou  hast  the  moral  right  to  cry  me  "shame!"  at  present. 
One  dares  not  that  before  chaste  ears  declare, 
Which  chaste  hearts,  notwithstanding,  cannot  spare; 
And,  once  for  all,  I  grudge  thee  not  the  pleasure 
Of  lying  to  thyself  in  moderate  measure. 
But  such  a  course  thou  wilt  not  long  endure; 
Already  art  thou  o'er-excited, 
And,  if  it  last,  wilt  soon  be  plighted 
To  madness  and  to  horror,  sure. 
Enough  of  that!   Thy  love  sits  lonely  yonder, 
By  all  things  saddened  and  oppressed; 
Her  thoughts  and  yearnings  seek  thee,  tenderer,  fonder, — 
A  mighty  love  is  in  her  breast. 

First  came  thy  passion's  flood  and  poured  around  her 
As  when  from  melted  snow  a  streamlet  overflows; 
Thou  hast  therewith  so  filled  and  drowned  her, 
That  now  thy  stream  all  shallow  shows. 
Methinks,  instead  of  in  the  forests  lording, 
The  noble  Sir  should  find  it  good, 
The  love  of  this  young  silly  blood 
At  once  to  set  about  rewarding. 
Her  time  is  miserably  long; 

She  haunts  her  window,  watching  clouds  that  stray 

178 


O'er  the  old  city-wall,  and  far  away. 
"Were  I  a  little  bird!"  so  runs  her  song, 
Day  long,  and  half  night  long. 
Now  she  is  lively,  mostly  sad, 
Now,  wept  beyond  her  tears; 
Then  again  quiet  she  appears, — 
Always  love-mad. 

FAUST 
Serpent!  Serpent! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aside) 

Ha!  do  I  trapthee! 

FAUST 

Get  thee  away  with  thine  offences, 
Reprobate!    Name  not  that  fairest  thing, 
Nor  the  desire  for  her  sweet  body  bring 
Again  before  my  half -distracted  senses! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What  wouldst  thou,  then?    She  thinks  that  thou  art  flown; 
And  half  and  half  thou  art,  I  own. 

FAUST 

Yet  am  I  near,  and  love  keeps  watch  and  ward; 
Though  I  were  ne'er  so  far,  it  cannot  falter: 
I  envy  even  the  Body  of  the  Lord 
The  touching  of  her  lips,  before  the  altar. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Tis  very  well!    My  envy  oft  reposes 

On  your  twin-pair,  that  feed  among  the  roses. 

FAUST 
Away,  thou  pimp! 

179 


jFaust 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

You  rail,  and  it  is  fun  to  me. 
The  God,  who  fashioned  youth  and  maid, 
Perceived  the  noblest  purpose  of  His  trade, 
And  also  made  their  opportunity. 
Go  on!    It  is  a  woe  profound ! 
'Tis  for  your  sweetheart's  room  you're  bound, 
And  not  for  death,  indeed. 

FAUST 

What  are,  within  her  arms,  the  heavenly  blisses  ? 

Though  I  be  glowing  with  her  kisses, 

Do  I  not  always  share  her  need? 

I  am  the  fugitive,  all  houseless  roaming, 

The  monster  without  air  or  rest, 

That  like  a  cataract,  down  rocks  and  gorges  foaming, 

Leaps,  maddened,  into  the  abyss's  breast! 

And  side-wards  she,  with  young  unwakened  senses, 

Within  her  cabin  on  the  Alpine  field 

Her  simple,  homely  life  commences, 

Her  little  world  therein  concealed. 

And  I,  God's  hate  flung  o'er  me, 

Had  not  enough,  to  thrust 

The  stubborn  rocks  before  me 

And  strike  them  into  dust! 

She  and  her  peace  I  yet  must  undermine: 

Thou,  Hell,  hast  claimed  this  sacrifice  as  thine! 

Help,  Devil!  through  the  coming  pangs  to  push  me; 

What  must  be,  let  it  quickly  be! 

Let  fall  on  me  her  fate,  and  also  crush  me, — 

One  ruin  whelm  both  her  and  me! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Again  it  seethes,  again  it  glows! 
Thou  fool,  go  in  and  comfort  her! 

180 


When  such  a  head  as  thine  no  outlet  knows, 
It  thinks  the  end  must  soon  occur. 
Hail  him,  who  keeps  a  steadfast  mind! 
Thou,  else,  dost  well  the  devil-nature  wear: 
Naught  so  insipid  in  the  world  I  find 
As  is  a  devil  in  despair. 


181 


XV 
MARGARETS  ROOM 

MARGARET 

(at  the  spinning-wheel,  alone) 


Mr 


peace  is  gone, 
My  heart  is  sore: 

never  shall  find  it, 
Ah,  nevermore! 


Save  I  have  him  near, 
The  grave  is  here; 
The  world  is  gall 
And  bitterness  all. 

My  poor  weak  head 
Is  racked  and  crazed; 
My  thought  is  lost, 
My  senses  mazed. 
182 


JFaust 

My  peace  is  gone, 
My  heart  is  sore: 
I  never  shall  find  it, 
Ah,  nevermore! 

To  see  him,  him  only, 
At  the  pane  I  sit; 
To  meet  him,  him  only, 
The  house  I  quit. 

His  lofty  gait, 

His  noble  size, 

The  smile  of  his  mouth, 

The  power  of  his  eyes, 

And  the  magic  flow 
Of  his  talk,  the  bliss 
In  the  clasp  of  his  hand, 
And,  ah!  his  kiss! 

My  peace  is  gone, 
My  heart  is  sore: 
I  never  shall  find  it, 
Ah,  nevermore! 

My  bosom  yearns 
For  him  alone; 
Ah,  dared  I  clasp  him, 
And  hold,  and  own! 

And  kiss  his  mouth, 
To  heart's  desire, 
And  on  his  kisses 
At  last  expire! 


XVI 
MARTHA'S  GARDEN 

MARGARET     FAUST 
MARGARET 

PROMISE  me,  Henry!— 
FAUST 


What  I  can! 


MARGARET 

How  is't  with  thy  religion,  pray  ? 
Thou  art  a  dear,  good-hearted  man, 
And  yet,  I  think,  dost  not  incline  that  way. 


FAUST 


Leave  that,  my  child!  Thou  know'st  my  love  is  tender; 

For  love,  my  blood  and  life  would  I  surrender, 

And  as  for  Faith  and  Church,  I  grant  to  each  his  own. 


MARGARET 


That's  not  enough:  we  must  believe  thereon. 

184 


FAUST 

Must  we? 

MARGARET 

Would  that  I  had  some  influence! 
Then,  too,  thou  honorcst  not  the  Holy  Sacraments. 

FAUST 
I  honor  them. 

MARGARET 

Desiring  no  possession 

'Tis  long  since  thou  hast  been  to  mass  or  to  confession. 
Believest  thou  in  God  ? 

FAUST 

My  darling,  who  shall  dare 
"I  believe  in  God!"  to  say? 
Ask  priest  or  sage  the  answer  to  declare, 
And  it  will  seem  a  mocking  play, 
A  sarcasm  on  the  asker. 

MARGARET 

Then  thou  believest  not! 

FAUST 

Hear  me  not  falsely,  sweetest  countenance! 

Who  dare  express  Him  ? 

And  who  profess  Him, 

Saying:  I  believe  in  Him! 

Who,  feeling,  seeing, 

Deny  His  being, 

Saying:  I  believe  Him  not! 

The  All-enfolding, 

The  All-upholding, 

Folds  and  upholds  he  not 

Thee,  me,  Himself? 

Arches  not  there  the  sky  above  us  ? 


jfaust 

Lies  not  beneath  us,  firm,  the  earth? 

And  rise  not,  on  us  shining, 

Friendly,  the  everlasting  stars  ? 

Look  I  not,  eye  to  eye,  on  thee, 

And  feel'st  not,  thronging 

To  head  and  heart,  the  force, 

Still  weaving  its  eternal  secret, 

Invisible,  visible,  round  thy  life  ? 

Vast  as  it  is,  fill  with  that  force  thy  heart, 

And  when  thou  in  the  feeling  wholly  blessed  art, 

Call  it,  then,  what  thou  wilt, — 

Call  it  Bliss!  Heart!  Love!  God! 

I  have  no  name  to  give  it! 

Feeling  is  all  in  all: 

The  Name  is  sound  and  smoke, 

Obscuring  Heaven's  clear  glow. 

MARGARET 

All  that  is  fine  and  good,  to  hear  it  so: 
Much  the  same  way  the  preacher  spoke, 
Only  with  slightly  different  phrases. 

FAUST 

The  same  thing,  in  all  places, 

All  hearts  that  beat  beneath  the  heavenly  day — 

Each  in  its  language — say; 

Then  why  not  I,  in  mine,  as  well  ? 

MARGARET 

To  hear  it  thus,  it  may  seem  passable; 
And  yet,  some  hitch  in't  there  must  be 
For  thou  hast  no  Christianity. 

FAUST 
Dear  love! 

186 


MARGARET 

I've  long  been  grieved  to  see 
That  thou  art  in  such  company. 

FAUST 
How  so? 

MARGARET 

The  man  who  with  thee  goes,  thy  mate, 
Within  my  deepest,  inmost  soul  I  hate. 
In  all  my  life  there's  nothing 
Has  given  my  heart  so  keen  a  pang  of  loathing, 
As  his  repulsive  face  has  done. 

FAUST 
Nay,  fear  him  not,  my  sweetest  one! 

MARGARET 

I  feel  his  presence  like  something  ill. 
I've  else,  for  all,  a  kindly  will, 
But,  much  as  my  heart  to  see  thee  yearnetti, 
The  secret  horror  of  him  returneth; 
And  I  think  the  man  a  knave,  as  I  live! 
If  I  do  him  wrong,  may  God  forgive! 

FAUST 
There  must  be  such  queer  birds,  however. 

MARGARET 

Live  with  the  like  of  him,  may  I  never! 
When  once  inside  the  door  comes  he, 
He  looks  around  so  sneeringly, 
And  half  in  wrath: 

One  sees  that  in  nothing  no  interest  he  hath: 
Tis  written  on  his  very  forehead 
That  love,  to  him,  is  a  thing  abhorred. 

187 


I  am  so  happy  on  thine  arm, 

So  free,  so  yielding,  and  so  warm, 

And  in  his  presence  stifled  seems  my  heart. 

FAUST 
Foreboding  angel  that  thou  art! 

MARGARET 

It  overcomes  me  in  such  degree, 

That  wheresoe'er  he  meets  us,  even, 

I  feel  as  though  I'd  lost  my  love  for  thee. 

When  he  is  by,  I  could  not  pray  to  Heaven. 

That  burns  within  me  like  a  flame, 

And  surely,  Henry,  'tis  with  thee  the  same. 

FAUST 
There,  now,  is  thine  antipathy! 

MARGARET 

But  I  must  go. 

FAUST 

Ah,  shall  there  never  be 
A  quiet  hour,  to  see  us  fondly  plighted, 
With  breast  to  breast,  and  soul  to  soul  united? 

MARGARET 

Ah,  if  I  only  slept  alone! 
I'd  draw  the  bolts  to-night,  for  thy  desire; 
But  mother's  sleep  so  light  has  grown, 
And  if  we  were  discovered  by  her, 
Twould  be  my  death  upon  the  spot! 

FAUST 

Thou  angel,  fear  it  not! 
Here  is  a  phial:  in  her  drink 

188 


jfaust 

But  three  drops  of  it  measure, 

And  deepest  sleep  will  on  her  senses  sink. 

MARGARET 

What  would  I  not,  to  give  thee  pleasure  ? 
It  will  not  harm  her,  when  one  tries  it? 

FAUST 
If  'twould,  my  love,  would  I  advise  it? 

MARGARET 

Ah,  dearest  man,  if  but  thy  face  I  see, 
I  know  not  what  compels  me  to  thy  will: 
So  much  have  I  already  done  for  thee, 
That  scarcely  more  is  left  me  to  fulfil. 

(Enter  MEPHISTOPHELES.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  monkey!    Is  she  gone ? 

FAUST 
Hast  played  the  spy  again  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I've  heard,  most  fully,  how  she  drew  thee. 

The  Doctor  has  been  catechised,  'tis  plain; 

Great  good,  I  hope,  the  thing  will  do  thee. 

The  girls  have  much  desire  to  ascertain 

If  one  is  prim  and  good,  as  ancient  rules  compel: 

If  there  he's  led,  they  think,  he'll  follow  them  as  well. 

FAUST 

Thou,  monster,  wilt  nor  see  nor  own 
How  this  pure  soul,  of  faith  so  lowly, 
So  loving  and  ineffable, — 
The  faith  alone 


That  her  salvation  is, — with  scruples  holy 

Pines,  lest  she  hold  as  lost  the  man  she  loves  so  well! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Thou,  full  of  sensual,  super-sensual  desire, 
A  girl  by  the  nose  is  leading  thee. 

FAUST 
Abortion,  thou,  of  filth  and  fire ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  then,  how  masterly  she  reads  physiognomy! 

When  I  am  present  she's  impressed,  she  knows  not  how; 

She  in  my  mask  a  hidden  sense  would  read: 

She  feels  that  surely  I'm  a  genius  now,— 

Perhaps  the  very  Devil,  indeed! 

Well,  well,— to-night— ? 

FAUST 

What's  that  to  thee? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Yet  my  delight  'twill  also  be! 


190 


XVII 

AT  THE  FOUNTAIN 

MARGARET  and  LISBETH  With  pitchers. 
LISBETH 

AST  nothing  heard  of  Barbara? 


MARGARET 

No,  not  a  word.    I  go  so  little  out. 

LISBETH 

It's  true,  Sibylla  said,  to-day. 

She's  played  the  fool  at  last,  there's  not  a  doubt 

Such  taking-on  of  airs! 


MARGARET 


How  so  ? 


LISBETH 


It  stinks! 


She's  feeding  two,  whene'er  she  eats  and  drinks. 

191 


MARGARET 
Ah! 

LISBETH 

And  so,  at  last,  it  serves  her  rightly. 
She  clung  to  the  fellow  so  long  and  tightly! 
That  was  a  promenading! 
At  village  and  dance  parading! 
As  the  first  they  must  everywhere  shine, 
And  he  treated  her  always  to  pies  and  wine, 
And  she  made  a  to-do  with  her  face  so  fine; 
So  mean  and  shameless  was  her  behavior, 
She  took  all  the  presents  the  fellow  gave  her. 
'Twas  kissing  and  coddling,  on  and  on! 
So  now,  at  the  end,  the  flower  is  gone. 

MARGARET 

The  poor,  poor  thing! 

LISBETH 

Dost  pity  her,  at  that? 
When  one  of  us  at  spinning  sat, 
And  mother,  nights,  ne'er  let  us  out  the  door 
She  sported  with  her  paramour. 
On  the  door-bench,  in  the  passage  dark, 
The  length  of  the  time  they'd  never  mark. 
So  now  her  head  no  more  she'll  lift, 
But  do  church-penance  in  her  sinner's  shift! 

MARGARET 

He'll  surely  take  her  for  his  wife. 

LISBETH 

He'd  be  a  fool !    A  brisk  young  blade 
Has  room,  elsewhere,  to  ply  his  trade. 
Besides,  he's  gone. 

192 


MARGARET 

That  is  not  fair! 


LISBETH 

If  him  she  gets,  why  let  her  beware! 

The  boys  shall  dash  her  wreath  on  the  floor, 

And  we'll  scatter  chaff  before  her  door! 

MARGARET  (returning  home) 

How  scornfully  I  once  reviled, 
When  some  poor  maiden  was  beguiled! 
More  speech  than  any  tongue  suffices 
I  craved,  to  censure  others'  vices. 
Black  as  it  seemed,  I  blackened  still, 
And  blacker  yet  was  in  my  will; 
And  blessed  myself,  and  boasted  high, — 
And  now — a  living  sin  am  I! 
Yet — all  that  drove  my  heart  thereto, 
God!  was  so  good,  so  dear,  so  true! 


[Exit. 


XVIII 
DONJON 

(In  a  niche  of  the  wall  a  shrine,  with  an  image  of  the  Mater 
Dolorosa.    Pots  of  flowers  before  it.) 

MARGARET 

(putting  fresh  flowers  in  the  pots) 

'NCLINE,  O  Maiden, 
Thou  sorrow-laden, 
.  Thy  gracious  countenance  upon  my  pain! 


The  sword  Thy  heart  in, 

With  anguish  smarting, 

Thou  lookest  up  to  where  Thy  Son  is  slain! 

Thou  seest  the  Father; 

Thy  sad  sighs  gather, 

And  bear  aloft  Thy  sorrow  and  His  pain! 


Ah,  past  guessing, 
Beyond  expressing, 


194 


The  pangs  that  wring  my  flesh  and  bone! 
Why  this  anxious  heart  so  burneth, 
Why  it  trembleth,  why  it  yearneth, 
Knowest  Thou,  and  Thou  alone! 

Where'er  I  go,  what  sorrow, 
What  woe,  what  woe  and  sorrow 
Within  my  bosom  aches! 
Alone,  and  ah!  unsleeping, 
I'm  weeping,  weeping,  weeping, 
The  heart  within  me  breaks. 

The  pots  before  my  window, 
Alas!  my  tears  did  wet, 
As  in  the  early  morning 
For  thee  these  flowers  I  set. 

Within  my  lonely  chamber 
The  morning  sun  shone  red: 
I  sat,  in  utter  sorrow, 
Already  on  my  bed. 

Help!  rescue  me  from  death  and  stain! 

O  Maiden! 

Thou  sorrow-laden, 

Incline  Thy  countenance  upon  my  pain! 


XIX 

NIGHT 
STREET  BEFORE  MARGARET'S  DOOR 

VALENTINE  (a  Soldier,  MARGARET^  brother) 

"HEN  I  have  sat  at  some  carouse, 
Where  each  to  each  his  brag  allows, 
And  many  a  comrade  praised  to  me 

His  pink  of  girls  right  lustily, 

With  brimming  glass  that  spilled  the  toast, 

And  elbows  planted  as  in  boast: 

I  sat  in  unconcerned  repose, 

And  heard  the  swagger  as  it  rose. 

And  stroking  then  my  beard,  I'd  say, 

Smiling,  the  bumper  in  my  hand: 

"Each  well  enough  in  her  own  way, 

But  is  there  one  in  all  the  land 

Like  sister  Margaret,  good  as  gold, — 

One  that  to  her  can  a  candle  hold?" 

Cling!  clang!   "Here's  to  her!"  went  around 

196 


The  board:  "He  speaks  the  truth!"  cried  some; 

"In  her  the  flower  o'  the  sex  is  found!" 

And  all  the  swaggerers  were  dumb. 

And  now! — I  could  tear  my  hair  with  vexation, 

And  dash  out  my  brains  in  desperation! 

With  turned-up  nose  each  scamp  may  face  me, 

With  sneers  and  stinging  taunts  disgrace  me, 

And,  like  a  bankrupt  debtor  sitting, 

A  chance-dropped  word  may  set  me  sweating! 

Yet,  though  I  thresh  them  all  together, 

I  cannot  call  them  liars,  either. 

i 

But  what  comes  sneaking,  there,  to  view? 
If  I  mistake  not,  there  are  two. 
If  he's  one,  let  me  at  him  drive! 
He  shall  not  leave  the  spot  alive. 

FAUST     MEPHISTOPHELES 
FAUST 

How  from  the  window  of  the  sacristy 

Upward  th'eternal  lamp  sends  forth  a  glimmer, 

That,  lessening  side-wards,  fainter  grows  and  dimmer, 

Till  darkness  closes  from  the  sky! 

The  shadows  thus  within  my  bosom  gather. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I'm  like  a  sentimental  tom-cat,  rather, 
That  round  the  tall  fire-ladders  sweeps, 
And  stealthy,  then,  along  the  coping  creeps: 
Quite  virtuous,  withal,  I  come, 
A  little  thievish  and  a  little  frolicsome. 
I  feel  in  every  limb  the  presage 
Forerunning  the  grand  Walpurgis-Night: 
Day  after  to-morrow  brings  its  message, 
And  one  keeps  watch  then  with  delight. 

197 


FAUST 

Meanwhile,  may  not  the  treasure  risen  be, 
Which  there,  behind,  I  glimmering  see  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Shalt  soon  experience  the  pleasure, 
To  lift  the  kettle  with  its  treasure. 
I  lately  gave  therein  a  squint — 
Saw  splendid  lion-dollars  in  't. 

FAUST 

Not  even  a  jewel,  not  a  ring, 

To  deck  therewith  my  darling  girl? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  saw,  among  the  rest,  a  thing 
That  seemed  to  be  a  chain  of  pearl. 

FAUST 

That's  well,  indeed!    For  painful  is  it 
To  bring  no  gift  when  her  I  visit. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Thou  shouldst  not  find  it  so  annoying, 

Without  return  to  be  enjoying. 

Now,  while  the  sky  leads  forth  its  starry  throng, 

Thou'lt  hear  a  masterpiece,  no  work  completer: 

I'll  sing  her,  first,  a  moral  song, 

The  surer,  afterwards,  to  cheat  her. 

(Sings  to  the  cither!) 

What  dost  thou  here 
In  daybreak  clear, 
Kathrina  dear, 
Before  thy  lover's  door? 
Beware!  the  blade 


Jfaust 

Lets  in  a  maid, 
That  out  a  maid 
Departeth  nevermore! 

The  coaxing  shun 

Of  such  an  one! 

When  once  'tis  done 

Good-night  to  thee,  poor  thing! 

Love's  time  is  brief: 

Unto  no  thief 

Be  warm  and  lief, 

But  with  the  wedding-ring! 

VALENTINE  (comes  forward) 

Whom  wilt  thou  lure  ?    God's-clement! 
Rat-catching  piper,  thou! — perdition! 
To  the  Devil,  first,  the  instrument! 
To  the  Devil,  then,  the  curst  musician! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  cither's  smashed!    For  nothing  more  'tis  fitting. 

VALENTINE 

There's  yet  a  skull  I  must  be  splitting! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (tO  FAUST) 

Sir  Doctor,  don't  retreat,  I  pray! 
Stand  by:  I'll  lead,  if  you'll  but  tarry: 
Out  with  your  spit,  without  delay! 
You've  but  to  lunge,  and  I  will  parry. 

VALENTINE 

Then  parry  that! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Why  not?  'tis  light. 
199 


VALENTINE 

That,  too! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Of  course. 

VALENTINE 

I  think  the  Devil  must  fight! 
How  is  it,  then  ?  my  hand's  already  lame. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (to   FAUST) 

Thrust  home! 

VALENTINE   (falls) 

OGod! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  is  the  lubber  tame! 
But  come,  away!  Tis  time  for  us  to  fly; 
For  there  arises  now  a  murderous  cry. 
With  the  police  'twere  easy  to  compound  it, 
But  here  the  penal  court  will  sift  and  sound  it. 

[Exit  with  FAUST. 

MARTHA  (at  the  window) 
Come  out!  Come  out! 

MARGARET  (at  the  window) 
Quick,  bring  a  light! 

MARTHA  (as  above) 
They  swear  and  storm,  they  yell  and  fight! 

PEOPLE 

Here  lies  one  dead  already — see! 

200 


MARTHA  (coming  from  the  house) 
The  murderers,  whither  have  they  run  ? 

MARGARET  (coming  OUt) 

Who  lies  here? 

PEOPLE 

Tis  thy  mother's  son! 

MARGARET 

Almighty  God!  what  misery! 

VALENTINE 

I'm  dying!    That  is  quickly  said, 
And  quicker  yet  'tis  done. 
Why  howl,  you  women  there  ?   Instead, 
Come  here  and  listen,  every  one! 

(All  gather  around  him) 

My  Margaret,  see!  still  young  thou  art, 
But  not  the  least  bit  shrewd  or  smart, 
Thy  business  thus  to  slight: 
So  this  advice  I  bid  thee  heed — 
Now  that  thou  art  a  whore  indeed, 
Why,  be  one  then,  outright! 

MARGARET 

My  brother!  God!  such  words  to  me? 

VALENTINE 

In  this  game  let  our  Lord  God  be! 
What's  done's  already  done,  alas! 
What  follows  it,  must  come  to  pass. 
With  one  begin'st  thou  secretly, 
Then  soon  will  others  come  to  thee, 

201 


And  when  a  dozen  thee  have  known, 
Thou'rt  also  free  to  all  the  town. 

When  Shame  is  born  and  first  appears, 
She  is  in  secret  brought  to  light, 
And  then  they  draw  the  veil  of  night 
Over  her  head  and  ears; 
Her  life,  in  fact,  they're  loath  to  spare  her. 
But  let  her  growth  and  strength  display, 
She  walks  abroad  unveiled  by  day, 
Yet  is  not  grown  a  whit  the  fairer. 
The  uglier  she  is  to  sight, 
The  more  she  seeks  the  day's  broad  light. 
The  time  I  verily  can  discern 
When  all  the  honest  folk  will  turn 
From  thee,  thou  jade!  and  seek  protection 
As  from  a  corpse  that  breeds  infection. 
Thy  guilty  heart  shall  then  dismay  thee, 
When  they  but  look  thee  in  the  face: — 
Shalt  not  in  a  golden  chain  array  thee, 
Nor  at  the  altar  take  thy  place! 
Shalt  not,  in  lace  and  ribbons  flowing, 
Make  merry  when  the  dance  is  going! 
But  in  some  corner,  woe  betide  thee! 
Among  the  beggars  and  cripples  hide  thee; 
And  so,  though  even  God  forgive, 
On  earth  a  damned  existence  live! 

MARTHA 

Commend  your  soul  to  God  for  pardon, 
That  you  your  heart  with  slander  harden! 

VALENTINE 

Thou  pimp  most  infamous,  be  still! 
Could  I  thy  withered  body  kill, 

202 


'Twould  bring,  for  all  my  sinful  pleasure, 
Forgiveness  in  the  richest  measure. 

MARGARET 

My  brother!    This  is  Hell's  own  pain! 

VALENTINE 

I  tell  thee,  from  thy  tears  refrain! 
When  thou  from  honor  didst  depart 
It  stabbed  me  to  the  very  heart. 
Now  through  the  slumber  of  the  grave 
I  go  to  God  as  a  soldier  brave. 

(Dies.) 


203 


XX 


CATHEDRAL 

SERVICE,  ORGAN  and  ANTHEM. 
(MARGARET  among  much  people:  the  EVIL  SPIRIT  behind 

MARGARET.) 
EVIL   SPIRIT 

'OW  otherwise  was  it,  Margaret, 

When  thou,  still  innocent, 

Here  to  the  altar  cam'st, 
And  from  the  worn  and  fingered  book 
Thy  prayers  didst  prattle, 
Half  sport  of  childhood, 
Half  God  within  thee! 
Margaret! 

Where  tends  thy  thought? 
Within  thy  bosom 
What  hidden  crime? 

Pray'st  thou  for  mercy  on  thy  mother's  soul, 
That  fell  asleep  to  long,  long  torment,  and  through  thee? 

204 


Upon  thy  threshold  whose  the  blood? 

And  stirreth  not  and  quickens' 

Something  beneath  thy  heart, 

Thy  life  disquieting 

With  most  foreboding  presence? 

MARGARET 

Woe!  woe! 

Would  I  were  free  from  the  thoughts 
That  cross  me,  drawing  hither  and  thither, 
Despite  me ! 

CHORUS 

Dies  irce,  dies  ilia, 
Solvet  sceclum  in  javillal 

(Sound  of  the  organ.) 

EVIL  SPIRIT 
Wrath  takes  thee ! 
The  trumpet  peals ! 
The  graves  tremble! 
And  thy  heart 
From  ashy  rest 
To  fiery  torments 
Now  again  requickened, 
Throbs  to  life! 

MARGARET 

Would  I  were  forth ! 
I  feel  as  if  the  organ  here 
My  breath  takes  from  me, 
My  very  heart 
Dissolved  by  the  anthem! 

CHORUS 

Judex  ergo  cum  sedebit, 
Quidquid  latet,  adparebit, 
Nil  inultum  remanebit. 
205 


JFau0t 


MARGARET 


I  cannot  breathe! 
The  massy  pillars 
Imprison  me! 
The  vaulted  arches 
Crush  me! — Air! 


EVIL  SPIRIT 


Hide  thyself!    Sin  and  shame 
Stay  never  hidden. 
Air?    Light? 
Woe  to  thee! 

CHORUS 

Quid  sum  miser  tune  dicturus, 
Quern  patronem  rogaturus, 
Cum  vix  Justus  sit  securus? 

EVIL  SPIRIT 

They  turn  their  faces, 
The  glorified,  from  thee: 
The  pure,  their  hands  to  offer, 
Shuddering,  refuse  thee! 
Woe! 

CHORUS 

Quid  sum  miser  tune  dicturus? 


MARGARET 


Neighbor!  your  cordial! 


(She  falls  in  a  swoon.} 


D 


XXI 

WALPURGIS-NIGHT 

THE  HARTZ  MOUNTAINS. 

District  of  Schierfy  and  Elend. 

FAUST     MEPHISTOPHELES 
MEPHISTOPHELES 

OST  thou  not  wish  a  broomstick-steed's  assistance? 
The  sturdiest  he-goat  I  would  gladly  see: 
The  way  we  take,  our  goal  is  yet  some  distance. 


FAUST 

So  long  as  in  my  legs  I  feel  the  fresh  existence, 
This  knotted  staff  suffices  me. 
What  need  to  shorten  so  the  way? 
Along  this  labyrinth  of  vales  to  wander, 
Then  climb  the  rocky  ramparts  yonder, 
Wherefrom  the  fountain  flings  eternal  spray, 

207 


Is  such  delight,  my  steps  would  fain  delay. 

The  spring-time  stirs  within  the  fragrant  birches, 

And  even  the  fir-tree  feels  it  now: 

Should  then  our  limbs  escape  its  gentle  searches  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  notice  no  such  thing,  I  vow ! 

"Tis  winter  still  within  my  body: 

Upon  my  path  I  wish  for  frost  and  snow. 

How  sadly  rises,  incomplete  and  ruddy, 

The  moon's  lone  disk,  with  its  belated  glow, 

And  lights  so  dimly,  that,  as  one  advances, 

At  every  step  one  strikes  a  rock  or  tree! 

Let  us,  then,  use  a  Jack-o'-lantern's  glances: 

I  see  one  yonder,  burning  merrily. 

Ho,  there!  my  friend!    I'll  levy  thine  attendance: 

Why  waste  so  vainly  thy  resplendence? 

Be  kind  enough  to  light  us  up  the  steep! 

WILL-O'-THE-WISP 

My  reverence,  I  hope,  will  me  enable 
To  curb  my  temperament  unstable; 
For  zigzag  courses  we  are  wont  to  keep. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Indeed  ?  he'd  like  mankind  to  imitate ! 
Now,  in  the  Devil's  name,  go  straight, 
Or  I'll  blow  out  his  being's  flickering  spark! 

WILL-O'-THE-WISP 

You  are  the  master  of  the  house,  I  mark, 
And  I  shall  try  to  serve  you  nicely. 
But  then,  reflect:  the  mountain's  magic-mad  to-day, 
And  if  a  will-o'-the-wisp  must  guide  you  on  the  way, 
You  mustn't  take  things  too  precisely. 

208 


jfaust 

FAUST,  MEPHISTOPHELES,  WILL-o'-THE-WISP 

(in  alternating  song) 

We,  it  seems,  have  entered  newly 
In  the  sphere  of  dreams  enchanted. 
Do  thy  bidding,  guide  us  truly, 
That  our  feet  be  forwards  planted 
In  the  vast,  the  desert  spaces! 
See  them  swiftly  changing  places, 
Trees  on  trees  beside  us  trooping, 
And  the  crags  above  us  stooping, 
And  the  rocky  snouts,  outgrowing, — 
Hear  them  snoring,  hear  them  blowing! 
O'er  the  stones,  the  grasses,  flowing 
Stream  and  streamlet  seek  the  hollow. 
Hear  I  noises  ?  songs  that  follow  ? 
Hear  I  tender  love-petitions? 
Voices  of  those  heavenly  visions? 
Sounds  of  hope,  of  love  undying! 
And  the  echoes,  like  traditions 
Of  old  days,  come  faint  and  hollow. 

Hoo-hoo!    Shoo-hoo!    Nearer  hover 
Jay  and  screech-owl,  and  the  plover, — 
Are  they  all  awake  and  crying? 
Is't  the  salamander  pushes, 
Bloated-bellied,  through  the  bushes? 
And  the  roots,  like  serpents  twisted, 
Through  the  sand  and  boulders  toiling, 
Fright  us,  weirdest  links  uncoiling 
To  entrap  us,  unresisted: 
Living  knots  and  gnarls  uncanny 
Feel  with  polypus-antennae 
For  the  wanderer.    Mice  are  flying, 
Thousand-colored,  herd-wise  hieing 
Through  the  moss  and  through  the  heather! 
209 


JFaust 

And  the  fire-flies  wink  and  darkle, 
Crowded  swarms  that  soar  and  sparkle, 
And  in  wildering  escort  gather! 

Tell  me,  if  we  still  are  standing, 
Or  if  further  we're  ascending? 
All  is  turning,  whirling,  blending, 
Trees  and  rocks  with  grinning  faces, 
Wandering  lights  that  spin  in  mazes, 
Still  increasing  and  expanding! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Grasp  my  skirt  with  heart  undaunted! 
Here  a  middle-peak  is  planted, 
Whence  one  see'th,  with  amaze, 
Mammon  in  the  mountain  blaze. 

FAUST 

How  strangely  glimmers  through  the  hollows 
A  dreary  light,  like  that  of  dawn ! 
Its  exhalation  tracks  and  follows 
The  deepest  gorges,  faint  and  wan. 
Here  steam,  there  rolling  vapor  sweepeth ; 
Here  burns  the  glow  through  film  and  haze: 
Now  like  a  tender  thread  it  creepeth, 
Now  like  a  fountain  leaps  and  plays. 
Here  winds  away,  and  in  a  hundred 
Divided  veins  the  valley  braids: 
There,  in  a  corner  pressed  and  sundered, 
Itself  detaches,  spreads  and  fades. 
Here  gush  the  sparkles  incandescent 
Like  scattered  showers  of  golden  sand; — 
But,  see!  in  all  their  height,  at  present, 
The  rocky  ramparts  blazing  stand. 

210 


der  the  old  ribs  of  the  rock  retreating, 


JFauist 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Has  not  Sir  Mammon  grandly  lighted 

His  palace  for  this  festal  night  ? 

'Tis  lucky  thou  hast  seen  the  sight; 

The  boisterous  guests  approach  that  were  invited. 

FAUST 

How  raves  the  tempest  through  the  air! 

With  what  fierce  blows  upon  my  neck  'tis  beating! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Under  the  old  ribs  of  the  rock  retreating, 

Hold  fast,  lest  thou  be  hurled  down  the  abysses  there! 

The  night  with  the  mist  is  black; 

Hark!  how  the  forests  grind  and  crack! 

Frightened,  the  owlets  are  scattered: 

Hearken!  the  pillars  are  shattered, 

The  evergreen  palaces  shaking! 

Boughs  are  groaning  and  breaking, 

The  tree-trunks  terribly  thunder, 

The  roots  are  twisting  asunder! 

In  frightfully  intricate  crashing 

Each  on  the  other  is  dashing, 

And  over  the  wreck-strewn  gorges 

The  tempest  whistles  and  surges! 

Hear'st  thou  voices  higher  ringing? 

Far  away,  or  nearer  singing  ? 

Yes,  the  mountain's  side  along, 

Sweeps  an  infuriate  glamouring  song! 

WITCHES  (in  chorus) 

The  witches  ride  to  the  Bracken's  top, 
The  stubble  is  yellow,  and  green  the  crop. 
There  gathers  the  crowd  for  carnival: 
Sir  Urian  sits  over  all. 
213 


4Fau0t 

And  so  they  go  over  stone  and  stock; 
The  witch  she s,  and s  the  buck. 


A  VOICE 

Alone,  old  Baubo's  coming  now; 
She  rides  upon  a  farrow-sow. 

CHORUS 

Then  honor  to  whom  the  honor  is  due! 
Dame  Baubo  first,  to  lead  the  crew! 
A  tough  old  sow  and  the  mother  thereon, 
Then  follow  the  witches,  every  one. 

A  VOICE 
Which  way  com'st  thou  hither  ? 

VOICE 

O'er  the  Ilsen-stone. 
I  peeped  at  the  owl  in  her  nest  alone: 
How  she  stared  and  glared ! 

VOICE 

Betake  thee  to  Hell! 
Why  so  fast  and  so  fell? 

VOICE 

She  has  scored  and  has  flayed  me: 
See  the  wounds  she  has  made  me! 

WITCHES  (chorus) 

The  way  is  wide,  the  way  is  long: 
See,  what  a  wild  and  crazy  throng! 
The  broom  it  scratches,  the  fork  it  thrusts, 
The  child  is  stifled,  the  mother  bursts. 
214 


4Fau0t 

WIZARDS  (semichorus) 

As  doth  the  snail  in  shell,  we  crawl: 
Before  us  go  the  women  all. 
When  towards  the  Devil's  House  we  tread, 
Woman's  a  thousand  steps  ahead. 

OTHER   SEMICHORUS 

We  do  not  measure  with  such  care: 
Woman  in  thousand  steps  is  there, 
But  howsoe'er  she  hasten  may, 
Man  in  one  leap  has  cleared  the  way. 

VOICE  (from  above) 
Come  on,  come  on,  from  Rocky  Lake! 

VOICE  (from  below) 

Aloft  we'd  fain  ourselves  betake. 

We've  washed,  and  are  bright  as  ever  you  will, 

Yet  we're  eternally  sterile  still. 

BOTH   CHORUSES 

The  wind  is  hushed,  the  star  shoots  by, 
The  dreary  moon  forsakes  the  sky; 
The  magic  notes,  like  spark  on  spark, 
Drizzle,  whistling  through  the  dark. 

VOICE  (from  below) 
Halt,  there!    Ho,  there! 

VOICE  (from  above) 
Who  calls  from  the  rocky  cleft  below  there  ? 

VOICE  (below) 

Take  me,  too!  take  me,  too! 
I'm  climbing  now  three  hundred  years, 

215 


JFaust 

And  yet  the  summit  cannot  see: 
Among  my  equals  I  would  be. 

BOTH  CHORUSES 

• 

Bears  the  broom  and  bears  the  stock, 
Bears  the  fork  and  bears  the  buck: 
Who  cannot  raise  himself  to-night 
Is  evermore  a  ruined  wight. 

HALF-WITCH  (below) 

So  long  I  stumble,  ill  bestead, 
And  the  others  are  now  so  far  ahead ! 
At  home  I've  neither  rest  nor  cheer, 
And  yet  I  cannot  gain  them  here. 

CHORUS  OF  WITCHES 

To  cheer  the  witch  will  salve  avail; 
A  rag  will  answer  for  a  sail; 
Each  trough  a  goodly  ship  supplies; 
He  ne'er  will  fly,  who  now  not  flies. 

BOTH  CHORUSES 

When  round  the  summit  whirls  our  flight, 
Then  lower,  and  on  the  ground  alight; 
And  far  and  wide  the  heather  press 
With  witchhood's  swarms  of  wantonness! 

(They  settle  down.) 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

They  crowd  and  push,  they  roar  and  clatter! 
They  whirl  and  whistle,  pull  and  chatter! 
They  shine,  and  spirt,  and  stink,  and  burn! 
The  true  witch-element  we  learn. 
Keep  close!  or  we  are  parted,  in  our  turn. 
Where  art  thou  ? 

216 


FAUST  (in  the  distance} 
Here! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What!  whirled  so  far  astray? 
Then  house-right  I  must  use,  and  clear  the  way. 
Make  room!    Squire  Voland  comes!    Room,  gentle  rabble, 

room! 

Here,  Doctor,  hold  to  me:  in  one  jump  we'll  resume 
An  easier  space,  and  from  the  crowd  be  free: 
It's  too  much,  even  for  the  like  of  me. 
Yonder,  with  special  light,  there's  something  shining  clearer 
Within  those  bushes ;  I've  a  mind  to  see. 
Come  on!  we'll  slip  a  little  nearer. 

FAUST 

Spirit  of  Contradiction!    On!  I'll  follow  straight 
'Tis  planned  most  wisely,  if  I  judge  aright: 
We  climb  the  Brocken's  top  in  the  Walpurgis-Night, 
That  arbitrarily,  here,  ourselves  we  isolate. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  see,  what  motley  flames  among  the  heather! 
There  is  a  lively  club  together: 
In  smaller  circles  one  is  not  alone. 

FAUST 

Better  the  summit,  I  must  own: 
There  fire  and  whirling  smoke  I  see. 
They  seek  the  Evil  One  in  wild  confusion: 
Many  enigmas  there  might  find  solution. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

But  there  enigmas  also  knotted  be. 
Leave  to  the  multitude  their  riot! 
Here  will  we  house  ourselves  in  quiet. 

217 


jFaust 

It  is  an  old,  transmitted  trade, 

That  in  the  greater  world  the  little  worlds  are  made. 

I  see  stark-nude  young  witches  congregate, 

And  old  ones,  veiled  and  hidden  shrewdly: 

On  my  account  be  kind,  nor  treat  them  rudely! 

The  trouble's  small,  the  fun  is  great. 

I  hear  the  noise  of  instruments  attuning, — 

Vile  din!  yet  one  must  learn  to  bear  the  crooning. 

Come,  come  along!    It  must  be,  I  declare! 

I'll  go  ahead  and  introduce  thee  there, 

Thine  obligation  newly  earning. 

That  is  no  little  space:  what  say'st  thou,  friend? 

Look  yonder!  thou  canst  scarcely  see  the  end: 

A  hundred  fires  along  the  ranks  are  burning. 

They  dance,  they  chat,  they  cook,  they  drink,  they  court: 

Now  where,  just  tell  me,  is  there  better  sport? 

FAUST 

Wilt  thou,  to  introduce  us  to  the  revel, 
Assume  the  part  of  wizard  or  of  devil  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I'm  mostly  used,  'tis  true,  to  go  incognito, 

But  on  a  gala-day  one  may  his  orders  show. 

The  Garter  does  not  deck  my  suit, 

But  honored  and  at  home  is  here  the  cloven  foot. 

Perceiv'st  thou  yonder  snail?    It  cometh,  slow  and  steady; 

So  delicately  its  feelers  pry, 

That  it  hath  scented  me  already: 

I  cannot  here  disguise  me,  if  I  try. 

But  come!  we'll  go  from  this  fire  to  a  newer: 

I  am  the  go-between,  and  thou  the  wooer. 

(To  some,  who  are  sitting  around  dying  embers:) 

Old  gentlemen,  why  at  the  outskirts?    Enter! 
I'd  praise  you  if  I  found  you  snugly  in  the  centre, 

218 


With  youth  and  revel  round  you  like  a  zone: 
You  each,  at  home,  are  quite  enough  alone. 


GENERAL 


Say,  who  would  put  his  trust  in  nations, 

Howe'er  for  them  one  may  have  worked  and  planned? 

For  with  the  people,  as  with  women, 

Youth  always  has  the  upper  hand. 


MINISTER 


They're  now  too  far  from  what  is  just  and  sage. 
I  praise  the  old  ones,  not  unduly: 
When  we  were  all-in-all,  then,  truly, 
Then  was  the  real  golden  age. 


PARVENU 


We  also  were  not  stupid,  either, 

And  what  we  should  not,  often  did; 

But  now  all  things  have  from  their  bases  slid, 

Just  as  we  meant  to  hold  them  fast  together. 

AUTHOR 

Who,  now,  a  work  of  moderate  sense  will  read? 
Such  works  are  held  as  antiquate  and  mossy; 
And  as  regards  the  younger  folk,  indeed, 
They  never  yet  have  been  so  pert  and  saucy. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

(who  all  at  once  appears  very  old} 

I  feel  that  men  are  ripe  for  Judgment-Day, 
Now  for  the  last  time  I've  the  witches'-hill  ascended: 
Since  to  the  lees  my  cask  is  drained  away, 
The  world's,  as  well,  must  soon  be  ended. 

219 


jfaust 

HUCKSTER-WITCH 

Ye  gentlemen,  don't  pass  me  thus! 

Let  not  the  chance  neglected  be! 

Behold  my  wares  attentively: 

The  stock  is  rare  and  various. 

And  yet,  there's  nothing  I've  collected — 

No  shop,  on  earth,  like  this  you'll  find ! — 

Which  has  not,  once,  sore  hurt  inflicted 

Upon  the  world,  and  on  mankind. 

No  dagger's  here,  that  set  not  blood  to  flowing; 

No  cup,  that  hath  not  once,  within  a  healthy  frame 

Poured  speedy  death,  in  poison  glowing: 

No  gems,  that  have  not  brought  a  maid  to  shame; 

No  sword,  but  severed  ties  for  the  unwary, 

Or  from  behind  struck  down  the  adversary. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Gossip!  the  times  thou  badly  comprehendest: 
What's  done  has  happed — what  haps,  is  done! 
'Twere  better  if  for  novelties  thou  sendest: 
By  such  alone  can  we  be  won. 

FAUST 

Let  me  not  lose  myself  in  all  this  pother! 
This  is  a  fair,  as  never  was  another! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

The  whirlpool  swirls  to  get  above: 
Thou'rt  shoved  thyself,  imagining  to  shove. 

FAUST 
But  who  is  that? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Note  her  especially, 
Tis  Lilith. 

220 


FAUST 

Who? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Adam's  first  wife  is  she. 
Beware  the  lure  within  her  lovely  tresses, 
The  splendid  sole  adornment  of  her  hair! 
When  she  succeeds  therewith  a  youth  to  snare, 
Not  soon  again  she  frees  him  from  her  jesses. 

FAUST 

Those  two,  the  old  one  with  the  young  one  sitting, 
They've  danced  already  more  than  fitting. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

No  rest  to-night  for  young  or  old! 

They  start  another  dance:  come  now,  let  us  take  hold! 

FAUST  (dancing  with  the  young  witch) 

A  lovely  dream  once  came  to  me; 
I  then  beheld  an  apple-tree, 
And  there  two  fairest  apples  shone: 
They  lured  me  so,  I  climbed  thereon. 

THE   FAIR  ONE 

Apples  have  been  desired  by  you, 
Since  first  in  Paradise  they  grew; 
And  I  am  moved  with  joy,  to  know 
That  such  within  my  garden  grow. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (dancing  with  the  old  one) 

A  dissolute  dream  once  came  to  me: 
Therein  I  saw  a  cloven  tree, 

Which  had  a ; 

Yet, as  'twas,  I  fancied  it. 

221 


THE  OLD  ONE 

I  offer  here  my  best  salute 

Unto  the  knight  with  cloven  foot! 

Let  him  a prepare, 

If  him does  not  scare. 

PROKTOPHANTASMIST 

Accursed  folk!    How  dare  you  venture  thus? 
Had  you  not,  long  since,  demonstration 
That  ghosts  can't  stand  on  ordinary  foundation? 
And  now  you  even  dance,  like  one  of  us! 

THE  FAIR  ONE  (dancing) 
Why  does  he  come,  then,  to  our  ball  ? 

FAUST  (dancing) 

O,  everywhere  on  him  you  fall! 

When  others  dance,  he  weighs  the  matter: 

If  he  can't  every  step  bechatter, 

Then  'tis  the  same  as  were  the  step  not  made; 

But  if  you  forwards  go,  his  ire  is  most  displayed. 

If  you  would  whirl  in  regular  gyration 

As  he  does  in  his  dull  old  mill, 

He'd  show,  at  any  rate,  good-will, — 

Especially  if  you  heard  and  heeded  his  hortation. 

PROKTOPHANTASMIST 

You  still  are  here?    Nay,  'tis  a  thing  unheard! 

Vanish,  at  once!    We've  said  the  enlightening  word. 

The  pack  of  devils  by  no  rules  is  daunted: 

We  are  so  wise,  and  yet  is  Tegel  haunted. 

To  clear  the  folly  out,  how  have  I  swept  and  stirred ! 

'Twill  ne'er  be  clean:  why,  'tis  a  thing  unheard! 

THE   FAIR  ONE 

Then  cease  to  bore  us  at  our  ball! 

222 


PROKTOPHANTASMIST 

I  tell  you,  spirits,  to  your  face, 
I  give  to  spirit-despotism  no  place; 
My  spirit  cannot  practise  it  at  all. 

(The  dance  continues) 

Naught  will  succeed,  I  see,  amid  such  revels; 
Yet  something  from  a  tour  I  always  save, 
And  hope,  before  my  last  step  to  the  grave, 
To  overcome  the  poets  and  the  devils. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

He  now  will  seat  him  in  the  nearest  puddle; 

The  solace  this,  whereof  he's  most  assured: 

And  when  upon  his  rump  the  leeches  hang  and  fuddle, 

He'll  be  of  spirits  and  of  Spirit  cured. 

(To  FAUST,  who  has  left  the  dance:) 

Wherefore  forsakest  thou  the  lovely  maiden, 
That  in  the  dance  so  sweetly  sang? 

FAUST 

Ah!  in  the  midst  of  it  there  sprang 

A  red  mouse  from  her  mouth — sufficient  reason! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

That's  nothing!    One  must  not  so  squeamish  be; 
So  the  mouse  was  not  gray,  enough  for  thee. 
Who'd  think  of  that  in  love's  selected  season? 

FAUST 
Then  saw  I — 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

What? 

223 


FAUST 

Mephisto,  seest  thou  there, 
Alone  and  far,  a  girl  most  pale  and  fair? 
She  falters  on,  her  way  scarce  knowing, 
As  if  with  fettered  feet  that  stay  her  going. 
I  must  confess,  it  seems  to  me 
As  if  my  kindly  Margaret  were  she. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Let  the  thing  be!    All  thence  have  evil  drawn: 

It  is  a  magic  shape,  a  lifeless  eidolon. 

Such  to  encounter  is  not  good: 

Their  blank,  set  stare  benumbs  the  human  blood, 

And  one  is  almost  turned  to  stone. 

Medusa's  tale  to  thee  is  known. 

FAUST 

Forsooth,  the  eyes  they  are  of  one  whom,  dying, 
No  hand  with  loving  pressure  closed; 
That  is  the  breast  whereon  I  once  was  lying, — 
The  body  sweet,  beside  which  I  reposed! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

'Tis  magic  all,  thou  fool,  seduced  so  easily ! 
Unto  each  man  his  love  she  seems  to  be. 

FAUST 

The  woe,  the  rapture,  so  ensnare  me, 
That  from  her  gaze  I  cannot  tear  me! 
And,  strange!  around  her  fairest  throat 
A  single  scarlet  band  is  gleaming, 
No  broader  than  a  knife-blade  seeming! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Quite  right!    The  mark  I  also  note. 
Her  head  beneath  her  arm  she'll  sometimes  carry; 

224 


JFaiwt 

Twas  Perseus  lopped  it,  her  old  adversary. 
Thou  crav'st  the  same  illusion  still! 
Game,  let  us  mount  this  little  hill; 
The  Prater  shows  no  livelier  stir, 
And,  if  they've  not  bewitched  my  sense, 
I  verily  see  a  theatre. 
What's  going  on? 

SERVIBILIS 

'Twill  shortly  recommence: 
A  new  performance — 'tis  the  last  of  seven. 
To  give  that  number  is  the  custom  here: 
'Twas  by  a  Dilettante  written, 
And  Dilettanti  in  the  parts  appear. 
That  now  I  vanish,  pardon,  I  entreat  you! 
As  Dilettante  I  the  curtain  raise. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

When  I  upon  the  Blocksberg  meet  you, 
I  find  it  good:  for  that's  your  proper  place. 


225 


XXII 
WALPURGIS-NIGHTS  DREAM 

OBERON  AND  TITANIA's  GOLDEN  WEDDING 

INTERMEZZO 

MANAGER 

ONS  of  Mieding,  rest  to-day ! 
Needless  your  machinery: 
Misty  vale  and  mountain  gray, 
That  is  all  the  scenery. 

HERALD 

That  the  wedding  golden  be, 
Must  fifty  years  be  rounded: 
But  the  Golden  give  to  me, 
When  the  strife's  compounded. 

OBERON 

Spirits,  if  you're  here,  be  seen — 
Show  yourselves,  delighted! 
226 


Fairy  king  and  fairy  queen, 
They  are  newly  plighted. 


PUCK 


Cometh  Puck,  and,  light  of  limb, 
Whisks  and  whirls  in  measure: 
Come  a  hundred  after  him, 
To  share  with  him  the  pleasure. 


ARIEL 


Ariel's  song  is  heavenly-pure, 
His  tones  are  sweet  and  rare  ones: 
Though  ugly  faces  he  allure, 
Yet  he  allures  the  fair  ones. 

OBERON 

Spouses,  who  would  fain  agree, 
Learn  how  we  were  mated! 
If  your  pairs  would  loving  be, 
First  be  separated! 

TITANIA 

If  her  whims  the  wife  control, 
And  the  man  berate  her, 
Take  him  to  the  Northern  Pole, 
And  her  to  the  Equator! 

ORCHESTRA.     TUTTI. 

Fortissimo. 

Snout  of  fly,  mosquito-bill, 
And  kin  of  all  conditions, 
Frog  in  grass,  and  cricket-trill, — 
These  are  the  musicians! 

227 


JFaust 

SOLO 

See  the  bagpipe  on  our  track! 
Tis  the  soap-blown  bubble: 
Hear  the  schncc1(e-schmc}(e-schnac\ 
Through  his  nostrils  double! 

SPIRIT,  JUST  GROWING  INTO  FORM 

Spider's  foot  and  paunch  of  toad, 
And  little  wings — we  know  'em! 
A  little  creature  'twill  not  be, 
But  yet,  a  little  poem. 

A  LITTLE  COUPLE 

Little  step  and  lofty  leap 
Through  honey-dew  and  fragrance: 
You'll  never  mount  the  airy  steep 
With  all  your  tripping  vagrance. 

INQUISITIVE   TRAVELLER 

Is't  but  masquerading  play? 
See  I  with  precision? 
Oberon,  the  beauteous  fay, 
Meets,  to-night,  my  vision! 

ORTHODOX 

Not  a  claw,  no  tail  I  see! 

And  yet,  beyond  a  cavil, 

Like  "the  Gods  of  Greece,"  must  he 

Also  be  a  devil. 

NORTHERN  ARTIST 

I  only  seize,  with  sketchy  air, 
Some  outlines  of  the  tourney; 
Yet  I  betimes  myself  prepare 
For  my  Italian  journey. 
228 


PURIST 

My  bad  luck  brings  me  here,  alas! 
How  roars  the  orgy  louder! 
And  of  the  witches  in  the  mass, 
But  only  two  wear  powder. 

YOUNG  WITCH 

Powder  becomes,  like  petticoat, 
A  gray  and  wrinkled  noddy; 
So  I  sit  naked  on  my  goat, 
And  show  a  strapping  body. 

MATRON 

We've  too  much  tact  and  policy 
To  rate  with  gibes  a  scolder; 
Yet,  young  and  tender  though  you  be, 
I  hope  to  see  you  moulder. 

LEADER  OF  THE  BAND 

Fly-snout  and  mosquito-bill, 
Don't  swarm  so  round  the  Naked! 
Frog  in  grass  and  cricket-trill, 
Observe  the  time,  and  make  it! 

WEATHERCOCK  (towards  OUC  side) 

Society  to  one's  desire! 
Brides  only,  and  the  sweetest! 
And  bachelors  of  youth  and  fire, 
And  prospects  the  completest! 

WEATHERCOCK  (towards  the  other  side) 

And  if  the  Earth  don't  open  now 
To  swallow  up  each  ranter, 
Why,  then  will  I  myself,  I  vow, 
Jump  into  hell  instanter! 
229 


XENIES  . 

Us  as  little  insects  see! 
With  sharpest  nippers  flitting, 
That  our  Papa  Satan  we 
May  honor  as  is  fitting. 

HENNINGS 

How,  in  crowds  together  massed, 
They  are  jesting,  shameless! 
They  will  even  say,  at  last, 
That  their  hearts  are  blameless. 

MUSAGETES 

Among  this  witches'  revelry 
His  way  one  gladly  loses; 
And,  truly,  it  would  easier  be 
Than  to  command  the  Muses. 

CI-DEVANT  GENIUS  OF  THE  AGE 

The  proper  folks  one's  talents  laud*. 
Come  on,  and  none  shall  pass  us! 
The  Blocksberg  has  a  summit  broad, 
Like  Germany's  Parnassus. 

INQUISITTVE  TRAVELLER 

Say,  who's  the  stiff  and  pompous  man  ? 
He  walks  with  haughty  paces: 
He  snuffles  all  he  snuffle  can: 
"He  scents  the  Jesuits'  traces." 

CRANE 

Both  clear  and  muddy  streams,  for  me 
Are  good  to  fish  and  sport  in: 
And  thus  the  pious  man  you  see 
With  even  devils  consorting. 
2^0 


Jfauat 

WORLDLING 

Yes,  for  the  pious,  I  suspect, 
All  instruments  are  fitting; 
And  on  the  Blocksberg  they  erect 
Full  many  a  place  of  meeting. 

DANCER 

A  newer  chorus  now  succeeds! 
I  hear  the  distant  drumming. 
"Don't  be  disturbed!  'tis,  in  the  reeds, 
The  bittern's  changeless  booming." 

DANCING-MASTER 

How  each  his  legs  in  nimble  trip 
Lifts  up,  and  makes  a  clearance! 
The  crooked  jump,  the  heavy  skip, 
Nor  care  for  the  appearance. 

GOOD  FELLOW 

The  rabble  by  such  hate  are  held, 
To  maim  and  slay  delights  them: 
As  Orpheus'  lyre  the  brutes  compelled, 
The  bagpipe  here  unites  them. 

DOGMATIST 

I'll  not  be  led  by  any  lure 

Of  doubts  or  critic-cavils: 

The  Devil  must  be  something,  sure, — 

Or  how  should  there  be  devils? 

IDEALIST 

This  once,  the  fancy  wrought  in  me 
Is  really  too  despotic: 
Forsooth,  if  I  am  all  I  see, 
I  must  be  idiotic! 

231 


JFaust 

REALIST 

This  racking  fuss  on  every  hand, 
It  gives  me  great  vexation; 
And,  for  the  first  time,  here  I  stand 
On  insecure  foundation. 

SUPERNATURALIST 

With  much  delight  I  see  the  play, 
And  grant  to  these  their  merits, 
Since  from  the  devils  I  also  may 
Infer  the  better  spirits. 

SCEPTIC 

The  flame  they  follow,  on  and  on, 
And  think  they're  near  the  treasure: 
But  Devil  rhymes  with  Doubt  alone, 
So  I  am  here  with  pleasure. 

LEADER  OF  THE  BAND 

Frog  in  green,  and  cricket-trill, 
Such  dilettants! — perdition! 
Fly-snout  and  mosquito-bill, — 
Each  one's  a  fine  musician! 

THE  ADROIT 

Sans  souci,  we  call  the  clan 
Of  merry  creatures  so,  then; 
Go  a-foot  no  more  we  can, 
And  on  our  heads  we  go,  then. 

THE  AWKWARD 

Once  many  a  bit  we  sponged,  but  now, 
God  help  us!  that  is  done  with: 
Our  shoes  are  all  danced  out,  we  trow, 
We've  but  naked  soles  to  run  with. 
232 


WILL-O'-THE  WISPS 

From  the  marshes  we  appear, 
Where  we  originated ; 
Yet  in  the  ranks,  at  once,  we're  here 
As  glittering  gallants  rated. 

SHOOnfoG-STAR 

Darting  hither  from  the  sky, 
In  star  and  fire  light  shooting, 
Cross-wise  now  in  grass  I  lie: 
Who'll  help  me  to  my  footing? 

THE  HEAVY   FELLOWS 

Room!  and  round  about  us,  room! 
Trodden  are  the  grasses: 
Spirits  also,  spirits  come, 
And  they  are  bulky  masses. 

PUCK 

Enter  not  so  stall-fed  quite, 
Like  elephant-calves  about  one! 
And  the  heaviest  weight  to-night 
Be  Puck,  himself,  the  stout  one! 

ARIEL 

If  loving  Nature  at  your  back, 
Or  Mind,  the  wings  uncloses, 
Follow  up  my  airy  track 
To  the  mount  of  roses! 

ORCHESTRA 

pianissimo 

Cloud  and  trailing  mist  o'erhead 
Are  now  illuminated: 
Air  in  leaves,  and  wind  in  reed, 
And  all  is  dissipated. 

233 


XXIII 

DREARY  DAY 
A  FIELD 

FAUST      MEPHISTOPHELES 
FAUST 

misery!  In  despair!  Long  wretchedly  astray  on  the  face 
of  the  earth,  and  now  imprisoned!  That  gracious,  ill- 
starred  creature  shut  in  a  dungeon  as  a  criminal,  and  given 
up  to  fearful  torments!  To  this  has  it  come!  to  this! — Treach- 
erous, contemptible  spirit,  and  thou  hast  concealed  it  from 
me! — Stand,  then, — stand!  Roll  the  devilish  eyes  wrathfully  in 
thy  head !  Stand  and  defy  me  with  thine  intolerable  presence ! 
Imprisoned!  In  irretrievable  misery!  Delivered  up  to  evil 
spirits,  and  to  condemning,  unfeeling  Man!  And  thou  hast 
lulled  me,  meanwhile,  with  the  most  insipid  dissipations,  hast 
concealed  from  me  her  increasing  wretchedness,  and  suffered 
her  to  go  helplessly  to  ruin! 

234 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

She  is  not  the  first. 

FAUST 

Dog!  Abominable  monster!  Transform  him,  thou  Infinite 
Spirit!  transform  the  reptile  again  into  his  dog-shape,  in  which 
it  pleased  him  often  at  night  to  scamper  on  before  me,  to  roll 
himself  at  the  feet  of  the  unsuspecting  wanderer,  and  hang 
upon  his  shoulders  when  he  fell!  Transform  him  again  into 
his  favorite  likeness,  that  he  may  crawl  upon  his  belly  in  the 
dust  before  me, — that  I  may  trample  him,  the  outlawed,  under 
foot!  Not  the  first!  O  woe!  woe  which  no  human  soul  can 
grasp,  that  more  than  one  being  should  sink  into  the  depths 
of  this  misery, — that  the  first,  in  its  writhing  death-agony 
under  the  eyes  of  the  Eternal  Forgiver,  did  not  expiate  the 
guilt  of  all  others !  The  misery  of  this  single  one  pierces  to  the 
very  marrow  of  my  life;  and  thou  art  calmly  grinning  at  the 
fate  of  thousands! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Now  we  are  already  again  at  the  end  of  our  wits,  where  the 
understanding  of  you  men  runs  wild.  Why  didst  thou  enter 
into  fellowship  with  us,  if  thou  canst  not  carry  it  out?  Wilt  fly, 
and  art  not  secure  against  dizziness  ?  Did  we  thrust  ourselves 
upon  thee,  or  thou  thyself  upon  us  ? 

FAUST 

Gnash  not  thus  thy  devouring  teeth  at  me!  It  fills  me  with 
horrible  disgust.  Mighty,  glorious  Spirit,  who  hast  vouchsafed 
to  me  Thine  apparition,  who  knowest  my  heart  and  my  soul, 
why  fetter  me  to  the  felon-comrade,  who  feeds  on  mischief  and 
gluts  himself  with  ruin  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

Hast  thou  done  ? 

237 


FAUST 

Rescue  her,  or  woe  to  thee!  The  fearfullest  curse  be  upon 
thee  for  thousands  of  ages! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  cannot  loosen  the  bonds  of  the  Avenger,  nor  undo  his  bolts. 
Rescue  her?  Who  was  it  that  plunged  her  into  ruin?  I,  or 
thou? 

(FAUST  loo!(s  around  wildly.) 

Wilt  thou  grasp  the  thunder?  Well  that  it  has  not  been 
given  to  you,  miserable  mortals!  To  crush  to  pieces  the  inno- 
cent respondent — that  is  the  tyrant-fashion  of  relieving  one's 
self  in  embarrassments. 

FAUST 

Take  me  thither!    She  shall  be  free! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

And  the  danger  to  which  thou  wilt  expose  thyself?  Know 
that  the  guilt  of  blood,  from  thy  hand,  still  lies  upon  the  town! 
Avenging  spirits  hover  over  the  spot  where  the  victim  fell,  and 
lie  in  wait  for  the  returning  murderer. 

FAUST 

That,  too,  from  thee?  Murder  and  death  of  a  world  upon 
thee,  monster!  Take  me  thither,  I  say,  and  liberate  her! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  will  convey  thee  there;  and  hear,  what  I  can  do!  Have  I 
all  the  power  in  Heaven  and  on  Earth?  I  will  becloud  the 
jailer's  senses:  get  possession  of  the  key,  and  lead  her  forth  with 
human  hand!  I  will  keep  watch:  the  magic  steeds  are  ready, 
I  will  carry  you  off.  So  much  is  in  my  power. 

FAUST 
Up  and  away! 

238 


XXIV 

NIGHT 

OPEN  FIELD 

(FAUST  and  MEPHISTOPHELES  speeding  onward  on  blac\  horses.} 


FAUST 


W 


HAT  weave  they  there  round  the  raven-stone? 


MEPHISTOPHELES 

I  know  not  what  they  are  brewing  and  doing. 

FAUST 
Soaring  up,  sweeping  down,  bowing  and  bending! 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

A  witches'-guild. 

FAUST 

They  scatter,  devote  and  doom! 


On!  on! 


MEPHISTOPHELES 
239 


XXV 
DUNGEON 

FAUST 

(with  a  bunch  of  keys  and  a  lamp,  before  an  iron  door) 

A      SHUDDER,  long  unf elt,  comes  o'er  me ; 
>4d\       Mankind's  collected  woe  o'erwhelms  me,  here. 
•A-  --tX   She  dwells  within  the  dark,  damp  walls  before  me, 
And  all  her  crime  was  a  delusion  dear! 
What!    I  delay  to  free  her? 
I  dread,  once  again  to  see  her? 
On!  my  shrinking  but  lingers  Death  more  near. 

(He  grasps  the  loc\:  the  sound  of  singing  is  heard  inside.) 

My  mother,  the  harlot, 

Who  put  me  to  death; 
My  father,  the  varlet, 

Who  eaten  me  hathl 
Little  sister,  so  good, 
Laid  my  bones  in  the  wood, 
In  the  damp  moss  and  day: 
240 


Then  was  I  a  beautiful  bird  o'  the  wood; 
Fly  away!    Fly  awayl 

FAUST  (unlocking) 

She  does  not  dream  her  lover  listens  near; 

That  he  the  rattling  chain,  the  rustling  straw,  can  hear. 

(He  enters.} 

MARGARET  (hiding  herself  on  the  pallet) 
Woe!  woe!    They  come.    O  death  of  bitterness! 

FAUST  (whispering} 
Hush!  hush!    The  hour  is  come  that  frees  thee. 

MARGARET  (throwing  herself  before  him) 
Art  thou  a  man,  then  pity  my  distress! 

FAUST 

Thy  cries  will  wake  the  guards,  and  they  will  seize  thee! 
(He  takfs  hold  of  the  fetters  to  unlocJ^  them.) 

MARGARET  (on  her  \nees) 

Who,  headsman!  unto  thee  such  power 

Over  me  could  give? 

Thou'rt  come  for  me  at  midnight-hour: 

Have  mercy  on  me,  let  me  live! 

Is't  not  soon  enough  when  morning  chime  has  run? 

(She  rises.) 

And  I  am  yet  so  young,  so  young! 
And  now  Death  comes,  and  ruin! 
I,  too,  was  fair,  and  that  was  my  undoing. 
My  love  was  near,  but  now  he's  far; 
Torn  lies  the  wreath,  scattered  the  blossoms  are. 
Seize  me  not  thus  so  violently! 
Spare  me !   What  have  I  done  to  thee  ? 

241 


jfaust 

Let  me  not  vainly  entreat  thee! 

I  never  chanced,  in  all  my  days,  to  meet  thee! 

FAUST 
Shall  I  outlive  this  misery  ? 

MARGARET 

Now  am  I  wholly  in  thy  might. 

But  let  me  suckle,  first,  my  baby! 

I  blissed  it  all  this  livelong  night; 

They  took  't  away,  to  vex  me,  maybe, 

And  now  they  say  I  killed  the  child  outright. 

And  never  shall  I  be  glad  again. 

They  sing  songs  about  me!  'tis  bad  of  the  folk  to  do  it! 

There's  an  old  story  has  the  same  refrain; 

Who  bade  them  so  construe  it  ? 

FAUST  (falling  upon  his  knees) 

Here  lieth  one  who  loves  thee  ever, 
The  thraldom  of  thy  woe  to  sever. 

MARGARET  (flinging  hersclj  beside  him) 

O  let  us  kneel,  and  call  the  Saints  to  hide  us! 

Under  the  steps  beside  us, 

The  threshold  under, 

Hell  heaves  in  thunder! 

The  Evil  One 

With  terrible  wrath 

Seeketh  a  path 

His  prey  to  discover! 

FAUST  (aloud} 
Margaret!  Margaret! 

MARGARET  (attentively  listening) 
That  was  the  voice  of  my  lover! 

(She  springs  to  her  feet:  the  fetters  fall  off.) 
242 


JFau0t 

Where  is  he  ?    I  heard  him  call  me. 

I  am  free!    No  one  shall  enthrall  me. 

To  his  neck  will  I  fly, 

On  his  bosom  lie! 

On  the  threshold  he  stood,  and  Margaret!  calling, 

Midst  of  Hell's  howling  and  noises  appalling, 

Midst  of  the  wrathful,  infernal  derision, 

I  knew  the  sweet  sound  of  the  voice  of  the  vision! 

FAUST 

Tis  I! 

MARGARET 

'Tis  thou!  O,  say  it  once  again! 
(Clasping  him.) 

'Tis  he!  'tis  he!  Where  now  is  all  my  pain? 

The  anguish  of  the  dungeon,  and  the  chain? 

'Tis  thou!    Thou  comest  to  save  me, 

And  I  am  saved! — 

Again  the  street  I  see 

Where  first  I  looked  on  thee; 

And  the  garden,  brightly  blooming, 

Where  I  and  Martha  wait  thy  coming. 

FAUST  (struggling  to  leave) 

Come!    Come  with  me! 

.  / 

MARGARET 

Delay,  now! 
So  fain  I  stay,  when  thou  delayest! 

(Caressing  him.) 

FAUST 

Away,  now! 

If  longer  here  thou  stayest, 
We  shall  be  made  to  dearly  rue  it. 

243 


MARGARET 

Kiss  me! — canst  no  longer  do  it? 

My  friend,  so  short  a  time  thou'rt  missing, 

And  hast  unlearned  thy  kissing? 

Why  is  my  heart  so  anxious,  on  thy  breast? 

Where  once  a  heaven  thy  glances  did  create  me, 

A  heaven  thy  loving  words  expressed, 

And  thou  didst  kiss,  as  thou  wouldst  suffocate  me — 

Kiss  me! 

Or  I'll  kiss  thee! 

{She  embraces  him.) 

Ah,  woe!  thy  lips  are  chill, 

And  still. 

How  changed  in  fashion 

Thy  passion! 

Who  has  done  me  this  ill? 

(She  turns  away  from  him.) 

FAUST 

Come,  follow  me!    My  darling,  be  more  bold: 
I'll  clasp  thee,  soon,  with  warmth  a  thousand-fold ; 
But  follow  now!    Tis  all  I  beg  of  thee. 

MARGARET  (turning  to  him  ) 
And  is  it  thou?  Thou,  surely,  certainly? 

FAUST 
Tis  I!   Come  on! 

MARGARET 

Thou  wilt  unloose  my  chain, 
And  in  thy  lap  wilt  take  me  once  again. 
How  comes  it  that  thou  dost  not  shrink  from  me  ? — 
Say,  dost  thou  know,  my  friend,  whom  thou  mak'st  free? 

244 


JFaust 

FAUST 

Come!  come!    The  night  already  vanisheth. 

MARGARET 

My  mother  have  I  put  to  death; 

I've  drowned  the  baby  born  to  thee. 

Was  it  not  given  to  thee  and  me? 

Thee,  too! — Tis  thou!    It  scarcely  true  doth  seem- 

Give  me  thy  hand!    'Tis  not  a  dream! 

Thy  dear,  dear  hand! — But,  ah,  'tis  wet! 

Why,  wipe  it  off!    Methinks  that  yet 

There's  blood  thereon. 

Ah,  God !  what  hast  thou  done  ? 

Nay,  sheathe  thy  sword  at  last! 

Do  not  affray  me! 

FAUST  - 

O,  let  the  past  be  past! 
Thy  words  will  slay  me! 

MARGARET 

No,  no!    Thou  must  outlive  us. 
Now  I'll  tell  thee  the  graves  to  give  us: 
Thou  must  begin  to-morrow 
The  work  of  sorrow! 
The  best  place  give  to  my  mother, 
Then  close  at  her  side  my  brother, 
And  me  a  little  away, 
But  not  too  very  far,  I  pray! 
And  here,  on  my  right  breast,  my  baby  lay! 
Nobody  else  will  lie  beside  me! — 
Ah,  within  thine  arms  to  hide  me, 
That  was  a  sweet  and  a  gracious  bliss, 
But  no  more,  no  more  can  I  attain  it! 
I  would  force  myself  on  thee  and  constrain  it, 

245 


Jfau0t 

And  it  seems  thou  repellest  my  kiss: 

And  yet  'tis  thou,  so  good,  so  kind  to  see! 

FAUST 
If  thou  feel'st  it  is  I,  then  come  with  me! 

MARGARET 

Out  yonder? 

FAUST 

To  freedom. 

MARGARET 

If  the  grave  is  there, 
Death  lying  in  wait,  then  come! 
From  here  to  eternal  rest: 
No  further  step — no,  no! 
Thou  goest  away!    O  Henry,  if  I  could  go! 

FAUST 
Thou  canst!    Just  will  it!    Open  stands  the  door. 

MARGARET 

I  dare  not  go:  there's  no  hope  any  more. 
Why  should  I  fly?    They'll  still  my  steps  waylay! 
It  is  so  wretched,  forced  to  beg  my  living, 
And  a  bad  conscience  sharper  misery  giving! 
It  is  so  wretched,  to  be  strange,  forsaken, 
And  I'd  still  be  followed  and  taken! 

FAUST 
I'll  stay  with  thee. 

MARGARET 

Be  quick!    Be  quick! 
Save  thy  perishing  child! 
Away!    Follow  the  ridge 
Up  by  the  brook, 

246 


,/V* 


Over  the  bridge, 

Into  the  wood, 

To  the  left,  where  the  plank  is  placed 

In  the  pool! 

Seize  it  in  haste! 

'Tis  trying  to  rise, 

'Tis  struggling  still! 

Save  it!    Save  it! 

FAUST 

Recall  thy  wandering  will! 

One  step,  and  thou  art  free  at  last! 

MARGARET 

If  the  mountain  we  had  only  passed! 

There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone, — 

I  feel  an  icy  shiver! 

There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone, 

And  her  head  is  wagging  ever. 

She  beckons,  she  nods  not,  her  heavy  head  falls  o'er; 

She  slept  so  long  that  she  wakes  no  more. 

She  slept,  while  we  were  caressing: 

Ah,  those  were  the  days  of  blessing! 

FAUST 

Here  words  and  prayers  are  nothing  worth; 
I'll  venture,  then,  to  bear  thee  forth. 

MARGARET 

No — let  me  go!  I'll  suffer  no  force! 

Grasp  me  not  so  murderously! 

I've  done,  else,  all  things  for  the  love  of  thee. 

FAUST 
The  day  dawns:  Dearest!   Dearest! 

240 


MARGARET 

Day?   Yes,  the  day  comes, — the  last  day  breaks  for  me! 

My  wedding-day  it  was  to  be! 

Tell  no  one  thou  has  been  with  Margaret! 

Woe  for  my  garland!    The  chances 

Are  over — 'tis  all  in  vain! 

We  shall  meet  once  again, 

But  not  at  the  dances! 

The  crowd  is  thronging,  no  word  is  spoken: 

The  square  below 

And  the  streets  overflow: 

The  death-bell  tolls,  the  wand  is  broken. 

I  am  seized,  and  bound,  and  delivered — 

Shoved  to  the  block — they  give  the  sign! 

Now  over  each  neck  has  quivered 

The  blade  that  is  quivering  over  mine. 

Dumb  lies  the  world  like  the  grave! 

FAUST 
O  had  I  ne'er  been  born! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (appears  outside) 

Off!  or  you're  lost  ere  morn. 
Useless  talking,  delaying  and  praying! 
My  horses  are  neighing: 
The  morning  twilight  is  near. 

MARGARET 

What  rises  up  from  the  threshold  here? 
He!  he!  suffer  him  not! 
What  does  he  want  in  this  holy  spot? 
He  seeks  me! 

FAUST 

Thou  shalt  live. 
250 


JFaust 

MARGARET 

Judgment  of  God!  myself  to  thee  I  give. 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (tO   FAUST1) 

Ccme!  or  I'll  leave  her  in  the  lurch,  and  thee! 

MARGARET 

Thine  am  I,  Father!  rescue  me! 
Ye  angels,  holy  cohorts,  guard  me, 
Camp  around,  and  from  evil  ward  me! 
Henry!    I  shudder  to  think  of  thee. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 

She  is  judged! 

VOICE  (from  above) 

She  is  saved! 

MEPHISTOPHELES    (tO    FAUST) 

Hither  to  me! 
(He  disappears  with  FAUST.) 

VOICE  (from  within,  dying  away) 
Henry!  Henry! 


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